


When the Dead Walk the Earth

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: When the Dead Walk the Earth [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Amputation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Guns, Knives, Nightmares, Post-Apocalypse, Zombie Apocalypse, broganes, i mean its a zombie au what else can i say, yeah shiro loses his arm lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-04-14 05:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 76,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14129220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: The world ended. All of the books and movies and games finally came true, and surprise, the zombie apocalypse isn't nearly as much fun as Hollywood made it out to be. A year later, when the country is firmly in the hands of decay, two groups of survivors meet by chance in the desert, and things might just change again. This time for the better.





	1. All the Living Will Fill These Coffins

**Author's Note:**

> Ok whew so this is the first chapter of my zombie au that I spent a month and a half working on. This thing is my baby. I put so much effort into this story. Also major thanks to my irl friend Tabitha who beta'd this whole monstrosity and made the lovely cover art with her magic photoshop skills, which you can see on FFN. This story will be updating every wednesday so be on the lookout cause this shit gets real.

Out of the things they’d seen over the course of this apocalypse, the weirdest thing had to be the zombie tortoise that crawled across their path one day. Of course, it made sense that the virus would affect creatures other than humans (it had originated in insects, after all). But still, the sight of a turtle covered in spores hauling it’s way through the desert sand was more than a little unnerving.

“Leave it alone.” Shiro scolded when Keith nudged it with the tip of his boot.

“I’m not hurting it.” Keith responded, but left it alone anyway. They lapsed back into silence, neither one of them having the energy to continue the conversation. It had been three days since they had eaten, three days of walking, trying to find their way to something, anything. It didn’t help that they weren’t sure where they were. Shiro thought they were somewhere in Texas, but even that was up for debate.

Keith let the tip of his bat drag through the dirt and brush against the shrubbery as he passed, some small form of entertainment. On his other hand his thumb rubbed against his knuckles, just above where his gloves ended, over and over the same chunk of skin. Shiro didn’t fidget, only rolling his shoulders every so often to resettle his backpack and the hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

They traveled at night to avoid the worst of the heat, but the sun had been edging at the horizon for awhile now, and the temperature was starting to rise again. They had both removed their jackets a few miles back, Keith tying his around his waist and Shiro shoving his into his backpack. About a mile after that, Keith tied up his hair, getting it unstuck from the back of his neck. Shiro didn’t have the same problem with his undercut, but periodically would run his fingers through his white forelock, his hand pausing at the scar across his nose before dropping again.

They wouldn’t keep going for much longer. They were both tired and hungry, and soon it would be too hot to continue walking. But for now they pressed on, small granite rocks getting trapped in the treads of their boots and thorns scratching at their jeans.

“We’re almost out of water.” Keith remarked about half an hour later, glancing balefully at his nearly empty water bottle. Shiro nodded, eyeing the shrubbery around them.

“There should be a creek or something nearby, if the plants are anything to go by.”

After another minute or two of walking, the ground began to slope downwards, a good sign if one is looking for water. Sure enough, at the bottom of the ravine, was a thin ribbon of trickling water. It wasn’t the cleanest or the coldest, but it would do.

“We can rest here.” said Shiro. Being the older brother, seven years older than Keith, he had taken up the more authoritative role in their relationship. Keith didn’t argue, just set his backpack down with his bat and beginning to unpack their water purification supplies.

“We have to find some food soon.” Keith said, and Shiro just nodded absently, absorbed in gathering water from the little creek. Keith’s stomach had stopped grumbling at this point, his hunger reduced more to a dull ache in his middle and a lightness in his limbs. He tossed Shiro the water purifying tablets and his several water jugs, and then pulled his red hoodie from around his hips and laid it on the ground. Taking a seat, he pulled his black hair down from it’s ponytail and it slightly curled against the back of his neck.

Bright light flashed into his eyes as the sun finally peeked up over the edge of their ravine, splaying golden light across the water. It looked slightly more cheerful in the light, sparkling and running a little clearer. But Keith didn’t notice, only scowled at the light and turned away so it wouldn’t be in his eyes anymore.

Shiro kept an eye on him as he worked with the water, watching as Keith eyed his own filthy white tank top and stripped it off in disgust. He felt a twinge of guilt at seeing his little brother’s ribs sticking out of his skin, but there wasn’t really anything he could do about it.

They worked to set up their rudimentary camp in silence. There was a mesquite tree growing near the creek, the only source of spotted shade in the area. Short of leaning up against a cactus, it would have to do.

Keith laid down, putting his bare back against his hoodie and letting his legs rest in the dirt. Staring up at the rapidly lightening sky, he idly pulled his knife from its sheath and twirled it between his fingers.

“I keep telling you not to play with that.” Shiro sighed, capping the last jug. “You’re gonna cut yourself.”

“Whatever, Dad.” Keith huffed, and then flinched a little. Shiro didn’t react outwardly, but in his head he unwillingly replayed the scene from the first day of the outbreak, the one he had relived a million times over by now. Returning home from the Garrison for the weekend, walking through the front door, following the sounds of distress into the kitchen, where Keith was huddled up against the cabinets. He was trembling, holding a knife, covered in blood, with the bodies of his adoptive parents on the floor beside him.

Shiro rolled his shoulders and forcibly dismissed the memory from his mind. He knew Keith still felt guilty about it, but Shiro didn’t blame him. They had both done terrible things to survive.

Keith resisted the urge to look at Shiro and continued to gaze up at the sky, thin desert clouds flitting across his vision. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen rain, or big puffy clouds, or lightning.

Shiro settled the water jugs and bottles in the shade of the mesquite tree, and then extracted his long grey trench coat from his bag, laying it alongside Keith’s and sitting cross legged.

“I’ll take first watch.” he said softly, as he normally did. He always liked to let Keith sleep first, so he would be there to wake him up if he started having nightmares. Sometimes Keith insisted on switching, because he was a stubborn little shit, but most of the time he was too tired to argue.

Today he just hummed his assent, continuing to look up at the sky. They sat quietly for some minutes, letting the small noises of the waking desert wash over them. For once it was quiet and peaceful, and no sounds of Z’s roaming just beyond their line of sight. It was a small comfort, but not one Shiro was about to take for granted.

Suddenly, Keith grabbed for his arm, making Shiro jump.

“What’s wrong?” Keith was still staring, wide eyed upwards at the sky. Shiro sometimes had flashbacks like that, but Keith never had.

“Look.” he hissed, pointing over at the far edge of the ravine. There, billowing up in thick clouds, was smoke. A campfire.

Shiro regarded it solemnly for a moment as Keith sat up, pulling his tank top back over his head.

“We should check it out.” said Shiro.

“What if it’s Galra?”

“We’re dozens of miles from Galra territory, it won’t be them.”

“You can’t know that for sure.” Keith mumbled under his breath, but he followed Shiro as he started to gather their things. If they had to make a run for it, they wouldn’t be able to come back here. His legs ached a bit in protest. He ignored them. Instead, he busied himself looping his dusty hoodie back around his waist and picked up his bat. His gloved hands tensed around it, carefully hefting it in preparation for a fight. Shiro, after packing up the bags again, made sure his rifle was loaded and slipped his homemade knuckle duster onto his hand. Wordlessly, they crossed the creek together and moved towards the smoke.

* * *

 

Here, a few hundred yards from the camp, the smell of roasting meat was overwhelming. And irresistable. As the pair crept closer, crouched in the cover of the shrubbery they were both thinking different things. Shiro was wondering how difficult it would be to talk them into sharing. Keith was wondering how difficult it would be to steal it from them.

Poking his head out just the tiniest bit, Keith caught a glimpse of the camp and the people crowded around the fire.

“Three people.” he breathed to Shiro, who gave a terse nod. He took another peek, sweeping a practiced gaze over their potential adversaries. “They look young, maybe around my age, but they’re armed.” One more look, and he finally came to the conclusion that made his shoulders release a bit of their tension. “Not Galra.” None of the three had the purple tattoo on the back of their hands, meaning they were safe. For now.

They both waited for a few more moments, individually assessing the situation. To the left of the fire was a boy, tall and lanky with brown hair and skin, carefully cleaning what looked like a sniper rifle. A homemade bow and a quiver of sad looking arrows lay in the dirt beside him while he chatted animatedly with the boy across the way.

 _Long range weapon_ , Keith thought, adjusting the grip on his bat before moving his gaze to the other boy. He was taller than the first, and also just bigger in general. He was dark skinned, and an orange headband pulled his black hair off of his face. He was giving the first boy short, but still interested, answers while he turned their meal on a spit over the flame. A rat, and what could have been a coyote. Barely poking out from behind his back was the double barrel of a shotgun.

 _Short range_ Keith noted with a wince, picturing the damage a buckshot could do to one of them before finally evaluating the last person, who sat behind the fire with their knees tucked up and their chin resting on them.

They were… well, Keith couldn’t actually tell their gender. They were dressed fairly androgynous, with baggy shorts and a large t-shirt covering most of their frame. They looked almost Irish, with pale skin and brownish hair that verged on red, which was cut short and fluffed up against the sides of their head. They wore glasses, which somehow hadn’t been scratched or shattered yet, and the glass reflected the dancing of the flames back at their watchers.

Keith eyed the shotgun nervously. He and Shiro could probably take them if they had to, but if they didn’t get rid of that gun first, they would be blown to smithereens before they made it ten feet. He turned to ask Shiro what he thought, but right then the one behind the fire looked up. They seemed to stare right at Keith, light flashing off their glasses.

“We know you’re there.” They called, and Shiro and Keith went still while the other two boys turned towards their hiding place expectantly, not surprised at all.

“Come on,” drawled the one with the sniper rifle, “We’re friendly.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes, weighing his options, and then stood. Keith hissed his name and scrambled to grab the hem of his t-shirt, but he was already walking forward, away from cover. He breathed out a curse and stayed where he was.

“Hi there!” said the sniper with a grin. The cooking one gave a shy wave. But the last one was still staring at the bush.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” they said, a little snappishly. “There’s two of you.”

Keith tightened his grip on his bat until his knuckles turned white and didn’t move. Until Shiro turned his head and spoke to him.

“Come on, Keith, no point in hiding.”

He didn’t want to, but if Shiro said it was ok… Slowly, slowly, he emerged from his hiding place, still holding his weapon out in front of him in a defensive stance. All of his muscles were coiled tightly in preparation for a fight.

“Hey!” the sniper exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “I know you!”

Keith immediately took two steps back. He was holding onto his weapon so tightly it felt like his knuckles were going to splinter, but he didn’t notice. Adrenaline was pouring into his system, making him even jumpier, like he was going to leap out of his skin at any moment.

_I can’t go back, I can’t go back, I can’t-_

“You went to our school. You’re that kid who always got perfect scores even though you were a total slacker!” The sniper crossed his arms over his chest, almost seeming to pout, while Keith’s mouth twisted.

“What?” he snapped, all the adrenaline going right to his head. Everything was so confusing, what the fuck- “I didn’t _slack_.”

The sniper huffed and dropped back to the ground, picking up his rifle again, still with the pout on his face. “Man, and to think, this whole time I was hoping the muerto’s got you.”

Shiro instinctively edged in front of Keith, and the one who was turning the spit gave a dramatic sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he said with an eyeroll, “Lance is just salty that Keith always got better scores than him.”

Keith’s battle stance had finally loosened, but he was far from comfortable.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” he said to the sniper- _Lance_ , “but that stuff doesn’t matter anymore. It hasn’t mattered for a long fucking time.”

“You take things too seriously,” Lance responded carelessly, dragging his rag over his gun. Keith opened his mouth to retort, but Shiro laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Enough, Keith,” he said softly, and Keith let the rest of the tension bleed out of his body. The tip of his bat hit the ground with a soft thump.

He was so confused. He hadn’t thought about the time before the outbreak for a long, long while. He didn’t recognize any of these people. Everything before the last three or so months was a blur, and the further back he tried to remember, the worse it got. A few events popped out clearly, like what he did to their parents, but other than that it was all blood and pain and-

He abruptly cut off his own thought process, his whole body shivering. Shiro felt it and squeezed his shoulder, but when Keith looked at him, he wasn’t meeting his eyes. Instead, Shiro was staring at the fire. Or more accurately, what was roasting over the fire.

The bigger boy noticed Shiro’s gaze, and gave the two of them a small smile.

“Hey, are you guys hungry? We have plenty to share.”

Keith grabbed onto Shiro’s wrist. He didn’t want this. He didn’t trust these people, he didn’t want to owe them, he just wanted to go back into the desert, just him and Shiro, where it was safe. But Shiro could feel his fingers trembling. He was hungry, Keith was hungry, and they couldn’t keep going like this. So he started towards the fire.

Keith followed, a sick feeling in his gut. He and Shiro settled down in front of the fire, across from the one with the glasses. The heat from the flames combined with the rising sun was almost too much, and the smoke stung his eyes, but neither of them moved away. Shiro shrugged off his backpack and his gun, but Keith didn’t disarm. He kept his bat close.

“How did you guys catch this stuff?” Shiro asked, keeping his eye on the roasting meat. The one doing the cooking smiled wide.

“Pidge is great at setting traps,” he said, gesturing to the one with the glasses. Pidge didn’t respond to the praise, just sitting and regarding the two newcomers with solemn eyes.

Shiro hummed an acknowledgement and rested his hands on his knees. His body language was open, calm, nonthreatening. Keith’s was the exact opposite, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, one hand still on his bat and the other tucked against his chest.

“When was the last time you guys ate?” Pidge asked, finally joining the conversation with a little head tilt.

“Three days ago,” Shiro answered, getting a surprised gasp from the cooking guy.

“You guys get the coyote,” he said firmly.

“Hunk-!” Lance exclaimed, but the other guy, Hunk, cut him off.

“No arguments Lance, we ate ten hours ago.”

Lance pouted and glared at Keith, as though this was somehow his fault. Keith returned the glare, only now noticing that Lance’s eyes were blue.

“So, you guys went to school with Keith?” asked Shiro. Keith shot him a look, which Shiro steadily ignored. Why was he being so… friendly?

“I guess so,” Pidge answered with a rueful head shake, “I never noticed him.”

“I only knew he existed because Lance would never shut up,” Hunk said, rolling his eyes again. Lance made an indignant sound, but Pidge and Hunk ignored him.

“Do you remember them, Keith?” Shiro gave him a searching look, and Keith turned his head away from it.

“No,” he mumbled, “I don’t.”

“Liar!” Lance cried, and Keith cringed back a little. Damn, this boy was _loud_ as _fuck_. “We were rivals! You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck, always competing.”

“Must’ve been someone else,” Keith muttered, not looking in Lance’s direction.

“Nope, I’d recognize that mullet anywhere.”

Keith’s fingers rose subconsciously to the back of his neck, where his hair was starting to stick again. “It’s not a mullet.”

“Whatever.” Lance replied scathingly. “Besides, the only reason you got better scores than me was because you cheated.”

Keith immediately bristled, and snapped his head around to glare at Lance.

“I never cheated.” he spat out. Vaguely, he could remember long nights spent scrunched over textbooks, panic attacks before tests, breakdowns over a low grade; things that hadn’t mattered in a long time.

Lance scoffed and set his rifle aside.

“Yeah, right. You never participated in class, I never saw you studying. No way someone like you could get perfect grades all the time without cheating.”

“Maybe your scores were lower because I was just better than you.” It was mean, and he knew it, but dammit why couldn’t this kid just leave him alone.

“Keith.” Shiro said in a warning tone, and he ground his teeth. Lance opened his mouth to answer, but Pidge beat him to the punch.

“Lance, that was all a year ago.” they said (Keith still couldn’t tell if they were a guy or a girl or somewhere in between). “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Is that how long it’s been?” Shiro asked, cocking his head to the side. Him and Keith had lost track of time.

Pidge shrugged and adjusted their glasses. “Give or take a few weeks.”

“Huh. Guess I’m 26 now.” he said, musing, and then playfully elbowed Keith. “And you’re 19.”

Keith made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. He didn’t really care.

There was quiet for a few minutes, Hunk turning the meat over the fire, until eventually he pulled off the two sizzling carcasses. He held the two sticks upright for a little bit, letting them cool, and then handed the one with the coyote to Shiro, who immediately tore off an entire leg and gave it to Keith.

They both tore into the meat. There wasn’t any seasoning obviously, and it was tough and stringy, but it was food, and at this point it could have been freaking ambrosia for all they cared.

Unnoticed by the two of them, Hunk was dividing the rat amongst the other three. He took a drumstick, gave one to Lance, and then insisted Pidge take the last two. He and Lance would split the torso.

“So.” Pidge said, nibbling on her drumstick. “Where are you guys heading?”

“Nowhere.” Shiro answered with his mouth full. “We don’t have a plan.”

Normally Keith would have shot him a look for revealing their plans (or lack thereof) to a bunch of strangers, but right now all he cared about was eating.

“What about you guys?”

“We’re on our way to the Garrison.” Hunk said easily, licking grease off of his large fingers.

Shiro froze. “The Garrison?”

“Yeah.” Lance chimed in, oblivious to Shiro’s reaction. “Pidge thinks her brother is there.”

“I hope my brother is there.” Pidge corrected.

“We’ve been trying to find our way there for months.” Hunk added. “But shit keeps going sideways.”

“I used to work for the Garrison.” Shiro revealed carefully, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Pidge immediately took notice, sitting up ramrod straight.

“You did?!” she exclaimed. “Maybe you knew him! His name was Matt, Matt Holt.”

Shiro choked in surprise, and Keith lasered his gaze onto the small girl. “He- he was my best friend.”

“He was?” her brow furrowed for a moment, and then her hazel eyes lit up brighter than the sun that was baking down on their shoulders. “You must be Shiro!”

“Wow, small world.” Hunk murmured in a dazed voice.

 _You can say that again_. Keith thought bitterly, and instinctively reached for the hem of Shiro’s shirt. He didn’t trust this, not in the least, it was all too convenient.

Shiro ignored him, his mind racing with possibilities. “You’re his little sister, Katie.”

Pidge nodded, and if it wasn’t for the glasses, he could’ve seen the tears welling in her eyes.

“Why do you think he’s still at the Garrison?” Shiro asked. “I figured it must’ve been overrun by now.”

“It’s not.” Lance said, finishing off his rat and laying back on the ground with his arms behind his head. “They managed to build up a safe zone, about five miles around it. They’ve got a settlement there. Rumor has it they even have electricity.”

Shiro was silent, thoughtfully gnawing on his coyote.

“You guys should come with us!” Pidge said, her excited demeanor a sudden change from her previous aloofness. “Matt would be ecstatic to know you’re alive.”

“No.” Keith snapped immediately. He ripped the last bit of meat from his leg and tossed the bone into the fire, glaring at Pidge. “No way.”

“Keith.” Shiro looked at him, and Keith couldn’t believe it. Shiro actually wanted to go, he wanted to trust these strangers and go back to-

He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing Shiro’s arm as he did so. “I need to talk to you.” he hissed, and then yanked Shiro upright and pulled him away from the fire, back towards the shrubbery.

“What the hell are you thinking?” he whisper-yelled once they were far enough away. “I don’t know if you forgot, but the Garrison is smack dab in the middle of Galra territory.”

Shiro pushed his white forelock off of his forehead with a sigh. “I know, but-”

“But nothing! We swore we would never go back there! You promised, Shiro.”

“I know.” Shiro had a conflicted look on his face, clearly not any happier with this situation than Keith was. “But what else are we supposed to do? Just wander around in the desert until we starve to death or get heat stroke?” he swiped at a drop of sweat that had started to make it’s way down his cheek. “I know I promised we wouldn’t go back in Galra territory. But I also promised myself that I would keep you alive, and I can’t keep that promise if we keep going the way we have been.”

Keith dug his teeth into his lip, staring down at the dust with his arms crossed. He said nothing.

“Look, we don’t have to decide now. We can eat, rest, sleep on it. And then make a decision. Ok?”

Keith drew in a deep breath, still not looking up. “Shiro, I trust you, you know I do. And if you decide this is the best choice, I’ll follow you. But I can’t go back to the Galra. I won’t. And if they find us, if they capture us, I won’t let them take me. Not alive.” he finally met Shiro’s gaze, his indigo eyes looking much darker with the resolve and fear in them. “You understand?”

Shiro, feeling sick, nodded. At that moment, he made himself another promise. He would never let the Galra get their hands on Keith again. Never.

After a moment of silence, they returned to the fire. Well, Shiro returned to the fire. Keith split off and went over to a nearby mesquite tree, finally taking his backpack off. He once again removed his hoodie and spread it on the ground as a makeshift bed, setting his bat down carefully next to it.

He was tired. He wasn’t sure he could sleep, not with these people around, but he could at least try. Pulling the pistol out of his waistband, he tucked it safely into his bag, and then tied up his hair again. It was going to get hot now, and he hated the feeling of his hair sticking to the back of his neck.

The four others watched him as he settled down on his hoodie, fingers inches from his bat, and closed his eyes. Shiro knew he wasn’t asleep, not yet, but eventually his exhaustion would catch up to him. He continued to eat small pieces of the coyote, until his leg was gone. He would save the rest for later, when the sun was going down.

“Who are the Galra?” Pidge suddenly asked, earning herself a suspicious look from Shiro.

“You heard that?” he asked sharply.

“Just the word Galra. I was wondering what it meant.”

“They’re a gang.” Shiro’s voice was gruff as he spoke, willing himself not to freak out. “Pretty big one. From what I know their territory is most of Utah and Nevada, goes right around the Garrison.”

“And let me guess.” Lance drawled from his position, still laying down. “They’re not very nice.”

“No.” Shiro grimaced and rolled his shoulders, one of the scars on his back stinging slightly at the memory. “I’m not sure if you guys will want to travel with us. They’re looking for us, and things might go badly for you if we get caught.”

“We’re not afraid of people.” Pidge said, determination shining in her eyes. “Not anymore.”

“You should be.” Shiro mumbled, but let the topic drop before he had a flashback or something. If they wanted to accept him and Keith into their group, that was entirely their decision, and Shiro wasn’t going to argue about having more eyes and hands on their side.

“We should all get some sleep.” Hunk said, stretching and popping his back. “Who wants first watch?”

“I’ll take it.” Shiro said quickly. The others gave him surprised looks, but none of them argued. They all set up their various sleeping positions around the fire, and Shiro moved back to Keith, setting up his coat the same way he had back at the ravine. Keith’s breathing was a little deeper, so he was probably dozing at the very least. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree and let himself relax, listening for the telltale groaning of Z’s. There shouldn’t be any nearby in the middle of mcfucking nowhere, but you never know.

In the back of his mind, he hoped he wasn’t making a giant mistake.


	2. Nightmares and Naruto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new group makes a plan of attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this chapter is a little bit more light-hearted than the last one, but it won't stay that way for long so treasure it while you can.

Shiro’s four hour watch was almost up. It was still the middle of the morning, so it wasn’t as hot as it could be, but it was getting there and they were all sweating. Though thankfully the fire had finally burned down to embers. 

Shiro looked down at Keith, sleeping beside him with his fingers curling around the handle of his bat. He considered taking the second watch as well, just to let Keith get a decent amount of sleep, but he was pretty tired himself. Keith, however, made the choice for him.

As Shiro watched, Keith scrunched up his face and curled into a tighter ball. Some strands of his hair had escaped his little spiky ponytail, and now fell over his forehead. Shiro brushed them back, but Keith turned his head away, whimpering and clutching his weapon. Shiro used one hand to pin the bat to the ground while his other continued to stroke his younger brothers hair.

“Shhhh.” he whispered as softly as he could.

“It’s ok, you’re ok.” Sometimes that was enough to banish the nightmares, but other times it wasn’t, and this was looking to be one of those times. Keith whimpered again and reached out, grasping the hem of Shiro’s shirt. His leg jerked, and he curled up even tighter with another forlorn sound.  

“Keith, hey.” Shiro said a little louder, lightly shaking his shoulder. If he didn’t do this now, Keith would just wake himself up screaming in a few minutes, and he wouldn’t want to disturb the others. 

Keith was normally a light sleeper, and it only took another slight shake from Shiro for his eyes to pop open. He looked frantic and confused for a moment, instinctively tugging on Shiro’s shirt, but then realized where he was and relaxed.

“My turn?” he mumbled. Shiro nodded, and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Neither of them mentioned the nightmare.

“Go to sleep.” Keith said, nudging Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro obeyed, stretching out on his trench coat as his brother let his hair down, pulled the strands back, and tied it up again. The sun was bright, leaving a golden glow behind his eyelids when he closed them, but he was used to ignoring it by now. He fell asleep much faster than Keith had.

Keith sat back against the trunk of the tree, still blinking away the last traces of drowsiness. It was bright, and warm, as the sunlight reflected off of the dirt, seemingly trying to bake these unwanted visitors alive. But Keith didn’t mind, for once. The warmth of the desert was welcome compared to the cold, clammy feel to his skin in his dream. It had barely begun before Shiro pulled him out of it, but he could still hear the chanting of the crowd echoing in his ears.

_ Red Lion _ .

Keith shoved the thought away, frantically looking for anything to distract him, and his eyes fell on their new acquaintances. Lance was splayed out in the dirt like a starfish, the sleeves on his blue three quarter length shirt shoved up over his elbows as far as he could make them go. A flannel shirt was folded neatly under his head as a makeshift pillow. He was quiet when he slept, which Keith vaguely thought had to be the work of a small miracle. 

Pidge was next to the burnt out remains of their campfire, curled up into a ball and almost her entire body resting on her backpack. Her glasses still sat on her nose, though tilted a little haphazardly. She made a small whistle sound on every exhale. 

Hunk laid neatly on his side, using his backpack as a pillow, with a brown leather jacket spread over his chest like a makeshift blanket. He snored a little, but not enough for Keith to be concerned about the noise. He frowned to himself, considering their offer from a few hours before. 

He didn’t want to think about it. Every time he thought about getting anywhere near the Galra again, cold fear would claw it’s way up his spine. But at the same time, Shiro was right. They hadn’t been doing well in the desert, on the run, and if they could make it to the Garrison, they would probably be safe. Then again, could he really function living with other people again? 

He shook his head, once again trying not to think too hard. These were questions for a later time. You didn’t have time to write sappy poetry or work through your problems on watch, because then you weren’t  _ watching _ .

He watched the sun rise higher in the sky, letting the sounds of the desert wash over him. There was the slight rustling of the brush in the wind, gravel crunching as one of his companions shifted in their sleep, but nothing dangerous. It had been almost a week since he and Shiro had seen a Z (not counting the poor turtle), and their absence was making Keith a little jumpy. They had to be somewhere and they were bound to run into them eventually.

When the sun was a bit passed its apex, as close to 2 in the afternoon as Keith could guess, he stretched out his limbs and glanced at Shiro. For once, he looked peaceful, no nightmares or flashbacks disturbing him. Keith didn’t want to wake him.

He considered the other three members of their camp, and eventually settled on Lance, just because he was petty. Making his way over to where the sniper was sprawled out on the ground, Keith shoved the toe of his boot into his ribs. Lance just groaned and turned away. Keith nudged him again, a little more insistently, and this time he peeled his eyes open and glared.

“Your turn for watch.” Keith said softly, not wanting to wake the others. Lance sat up with a disgruntled noise and popped his back. 

“You were on watch?” he asked, mercifully keeping his voice down. “Wow, I’m surprised we didn’t all get eaten in our sleep.”

“Whatever.” Keith huffed, shuffling back to his hoodie. He refused to look at Lance once he was laying down again, choosing to stare holes into Shiro’s back instead. He was still exhausted, and it didn’t take too long (by his standards) of counting Shiro’s breaths before his eyelids began to feel heavy. Right before he dropped off, he prayed he wouldn’t have a nightmare when Lance was the only one awake.

* * *

 

Lance was pissed.

Of course he was the one who got saddled with watch during the real heat of the day, when everyone else could just ignore it while they slept. But it was more than that. It was stupid, freaking Keith.

Lance’s one comfort during this whole year of hell, his one silver lining, the only good thing to happen since he found his siblings  _ eating his fucking mother _ , was the idea that school didn’t matter anymore and that his archrival, Keith, was probably zombie food. But now here he was, very much alive, and even more badass, and still just as much of a jerk as he had been before.

He fumed during his entire four hour watch, glaring balefully at the sun as it finally began to set. The others would be waking up soon, and then he could grab Hunk and Pidge and get the hell away from the mysterious duo. Honestly, what had she been thinking, inviting them to come with? Keith was an antisocial douchebag who couldn’t be trusted in a fight, and even though Shiro was nice and everything, they didn’t need anymore people to worry about. They didn’t need anyone else. The three of them had been working just fine, despite having some difficulty getting to the Garrison. 

The sun edged at the horizon, twilight finally beginning to creep over the desert, and Lance wiped away the sweat on the back of his neck. Finally, it was starting to cool down, and they could get back on their way.

Across their campsite from him, Keith and Shiro lay beneath a mesquite tree. About an hour ago Shiro had gotten restless, and eventually ended up facing Keith before nodding back off. Now he twitched a little, one of his hands curling into a fist, and a grimace tore at his face. Lance watched with a frown. 

He twitched again, and Lance was trying to decide whether to wake him up or not when his eyes opened on their own. He didn’t say anything or make a sound, he just stared at Keith, breathing hard and his fist still clenched. Then, slowly, slowly, he forced out a deep breath and made his hand uncurl. 

“Hey,” Lance said quietly, making Shiro jump in surprise at the sudden noise. “You ok?”

The question earned him a small, tired smile from Shiro. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Lance wanted to ask more, find out what his nightmare was about, but something about Shiro’s coiled muscles told him to leave it. So he did.

Shiro lay there for a moment longer, and then pushed himself to a sitting position, combing his fingers through the puff of white hair at his forehead. That was another thing Lance wanted to ask about. But he didn’t.

To Lance’s left, Pidge stirred. Her eyes blinked blearily behind her glasses, and then she threw out all of her limbs at once and stretched with a loud yawn.

“Is it time to go already?” she mumbled, knocking her glasses back into their correct position. 

“In a bit.” Lance answered, tossing a water bottle to her. She drained half of it in one go, then tossed it back and rubbed her eyes. 

“Have you and Keith decided if you wanna come with us yet?” Her voice was still a little thick from sleep, but she was steadily becoming more alert as she brushed the dust out of her hair and turned to look at Shiro. The man in question licked his chapped lips and glanced down at Keith, who was still asleep, or at least pretending to be. Lance took advantage of his pause to speak up.

“Pidge, are you sure you want them to come with us?” She snapped her head around to give Lance an accusatory look, and he held up his palms in a placating gesture. “Look, I know he was friends with your brother, but we don’t know if we can trust them. Just being realistic here.”

He was surprised to hear Shiro chuckling, and turned his gaze back to him. He tried to stifle it when he saw Lance looking, but his eyes still sparkled.

“Sorry, you just sound exactly like Keith.” he chortled. But seeing the solemn looks on their faces, he forced it down. “I understand your concern, and if you three talk it over and decide you don’t want us to come along, we’ll respect that. But if the offer is still open, I think it may be the best option for the two of us.”

Lance and Pidge’s eyes met. 

“We can discuss it with Hunk.” Pidge sighed, shoving her glasses up on her nose with her middle finger. “But I don’t think they’re untrustworthy, Lance. Matt was a really good judge of character.”

“It’s not Shiro I’m worried about.” Lance grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You don’t have to worry about Keith.” Shiro put in, jaw clenching. “He comes off a little… aggressive, but he’s a good person.”

“I don’t know, man, the apocalypse changes people.” Lance was aware he was being unnecessarily paranoid, and not at all like his usual friendly self, but he couldn’t help it. Seeing Keith again had just reminded him of before the outbreak, and those memories hurt now.

Shiro shook his head. “Keith and I, we’ve both been through… a lot. But he hasn’t changed, not really.”

Lance opened his mouth, but Hunk gave a groan and rolled onto his other side.

“Lance,” he growled, opening one eye in his friend’s direction, “Just cut the guy some slack, already. He never did anything to you.”

“So, you’re ok with them coming with us?” Pide inquired eagerly, sitting up on her knees. Hunk reluctantly pushed his jacket off of his chest and sat up. 

“Yeah, sure, why not.” 

Pidge let out a loud whoop, which was enough to make Keith finally stir. He reached out blindly for Shiro’s shoulder and used it to pull himself upright, bedraggled and covered in dust. 

“Is there any of that coyote left?” he asked, brushing strands of hair out of his eyes. “I’m starving.”

* * *

 

“Ok, so what’s your plan?”

Pidge unrolled a large map of the US on the ground in front of Shiro, pinning one corner down with a compass while Lance held down the other side.

“So as far as I can tell, we’re somewhere around here,” she jabbed her finger at a point on the map, in the south of Texas. “And the Garrison is here,” Her finger moved to the southeast of Utah, near the four corners. “Our plan was to head to Austin and look for a car. That should make at least part of the trip a lot faster. Then we can head roughly northwest until we hit the Garrison. This route will take us mostly through New Mexico, so based on what Shiro told me, we should be able to avoid most of these Galra people.”

Keith peered at the map from over Shiro’s shoulder, frowning at the mention of a big city.

“Are you sure about Austin?” he asked. “There’s sure to be a lot of Z’s there.”

Lance made a mocking noise, somewhere in between a scoff and a hiss. “Z’s? Oh my god that is such a bad name.”

“What do you call them, then?” Keith snapped at him over Shiro’s head, and Lance responded with a sly smirk.

“Muertos. Much sexier in Spanish.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry our name for the  _ reanimated corpses of the dead  _ isn’t sexy enough for you.”

“Ok, enough.” Shiro said. He didn’t quite snap, but his voice didn’t leave any room for argument, and the two boys reluctantly fell silent. Shiro turned his attention back to the map, tracing the route with his eyes.

“Keith is right about Z’s.” he murmured, almost to himself. “But a big city is our best shot at finding a working car and enough gas to get anywhere in it. And with five of us, Z’s probably won’t be much of an issue, so long as we’re careful.” He looked up at Pidge. “You know how to get to Austin from here?”

Pidge shoved her glasses up on her nose. “Yeah, within a reasonable margin of error.”

“Pidge is a great navigator.” Hunk chimed in from the other side of the map. Shiro nodded, gave the map one last searching look, and then stood up.

“Ok, sounds good to me.”

A few minutes later they were leaving the campsite behind, Pidge leading the charge while armed with her compass. For the first little bit they walked in silence, their eyes adjusting to the darkness that creeped gradually over the desert. But eventually, Shiro got sick of the quiet. 

“So,” he ventured to say, lightly elbowing Lance who had fallen into step beside him, “You three knew each other before all this?”

Lance perked up noticeably at the promise of conversation. “Yeah, we were like the three musketeers, always getting into trouble.”

“Correction.” Hunk said from in front. “You were always getting us into trouble.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “You never bailed on me.”

“Because if I had you probably would have destroyed the school.”

“You’re so dramatic, Hunk.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

Lance ignored the jab and turned curious eyes back to Shiro. “How do you know Keith anyway? I never saw him with any friends.”

Keith hunched his shoulders and shot Lance a glare.

“Why were you always watching me, you creep?” he muttered angrily, but Shiro butted in before Lance could retaliate. 

“We’re brothers.” 

Lance let out a small chuckle, and Keith bristled. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just reminds me of Sam and Dean.” Keith gave him a confused frown, and then it melted off in favor of disbelieving annoyance. 

“I cannot believe you just compared us to the freaking Winchesters.” he groaned with a dramatic facepalm. 

“ _ You  _ watched Supernatural?”

“No.” Keith snapped. “But I know about it.”

Lance, for seemingly the millionth fucking time, pouted. “Aw man, I was hoping you had so I could talk to someone about it. All these two watch,” he gestured in front of them to Hunk and Pidge, “Is terrible anime.”

“I’ll have you know,” called back Pidge, “That Naruto was top class entertainment.”

Keith scoffed. “Naruto was  _ shit _ .” 

Pidge stopped in her tracks and whirled indignantly to face him. “You take that back!”

“That show was the definition of pacing issues.” Keith responded, shoving her shoulder lightly to get her to keep walking. “And you know it.”

“Hmph. Let me guess, you were one of those edgy people who liked Death Note.” 

“What’s wrong with Death Note?”

“Nothing is wrong with Death Note.” said Hunk, shooting Pidge a look. “And I’ll remind you, Pidge, you were one of those weirdo’s who rooted for Light.”

“Hey, I rooted for Light.” Keith said defensively. “He had good intentions.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Mullet boy.” Lance chimed in. Keith ignored him.

Shiro was watching this whole interaction with an amused smile, but suddenly a thought struck him, and he gave a horrified gasp. Everyone’s eyes immediately turned to him, mirth forgotten and on high alert.

“Shiro?” Keith asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just realized… we’ll never know how Game of Thrones ended.”


	3. We Built This City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finally reaches Austin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another semi-light hearted chapter. Please remember that I wrote this before season 5, so anything regarding Keith or Lance's families won't necessarily reflect canon.

It took four days of trudging through the desert before the city of Austin finally loomed on the horizon. The skyscrapers, despite being derelict and crumbling, still shone in the moonlight. They reminded Shiro of old shipwrecks, lost among pillars of razor sharp rock, never to be found again. 

“We should stick to the outskirts.” Keith said on their final approach. “There’ll be too many Z’s inside.”

“Aw, where’s your sense of adventure?” Lance hedged, but Shiro hopped into the conversation before the two could start butting heads again. 

“Keith is right, we shouldn’t go too far in. We just need to get in, grab what we need, and get out.”

“Look, the highway!” Pidge cried, pointing off to their left. A green sign stood there, reflecting the moonlight back at them sharply, like the edge of a blade. “That’ll lead us into the city!”

“Good eye, Pidge.” Shiro said, veering off to lead their little group towards the road. Sometime in the last four days, Shiro had slipped into the role of the leader, which absolutely no one was complaining about. 

“Think there’ll be cars parked on it?” Lance asked as they scrambled up the incline towards the cracked pavement. 

“Probably, useless ones though.” Hunk answered. Once they were on the blacktop, they discovered Hunk was right. There were a few cars scattered on the highway in either direction, and the group investigated the ones they ran into as they moved towards the city. The first two were empty, but luck finally chose to bless them when they approached the third, a small white pickup truck pulled to the side of the road. Keith approached first, having taken to walking quite a bit ahead of the others, and drew his knife as he came around to the driver's side window. Which he promptly pulled away from with a look of disgust.

The entire interior of the truck was coated in sickly orange fungus, the source being the clicker still buckled into the driver's seat. It was no longer moving, but that didn’t mean it was safe. 

“Is it clear?” Lance called over to him. Keith shook his head, making a face. 

“No, there’s a clicker in there. It’s all… stuck.”

“Don’t open the door.” Shiro said solemnly as the group drew closer. “There’ll be spores. Just check the bed.”

“I’ve got it!” Lance jogged over, bumping Keith aside with a small shove, and pulled himself into the bed of the truck. Keith just rolled his eyes and sheathed his blade again. 

“Aha!” Lance stood up, triumphantly brandishing an empty gas canister and a clear rubber hose. “Jackpot!”

Keith grabbed the edge of the truck and lifted himself off the ground for a moment, doing a quick sweep of the truck to make sure Lance hadn’t missed anything. There wasn’t anything left lying on the dirty plastic. Letting himself back to the ground, he reached out to grab the canister.

“Hey!” Lance exclaimed, snatching it away from him. “Finders keepers, mullet!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Let me check if the car has any gas in it, genius. Unless you wanna be the one tasting gasoline for the next three days?” 

Lance scoffed, but passed the canister and the hose down to Keith anyway. The other three finally got to the truck as Keith was starting the siphoning process.

Pidge wandered to the front of the truck and peered curiously through the windshield at the clicker inside.

“Do you guys ever think about a cure?” she asked softly. None of the others looked up.

“No.” Shiro said with a shake of his head. If he was being honest with himself, he spent way more time thinking about surviving and keeping his shit together. Keith didn’t bother answering, because his was much the same as Shiro’s. 

“Sometimes.” Lance admitted. “But there’s not really a point in thinking about it. If a cure is possible, I’m not gonna be the one making it.” He climbed back out of the truck, hitting the pavement with a dull thud. 

Hunk just shrugged. Pidge twisted her mouth, not satisfied with their answers, but kept her thoughts to herself anyway.

“Not much here.” Keith said, half to himself as he hefted the gas canister. “But a little is better than nothing.” He held it out to Lance, who raised an eyebrow.

“Why do I have to carry it?”

“Because,” Keith answered with a smirk, “Finders keepers, right sniper boy?” Lance groaned dramatically, recognizing when he was beaten, and took the canister from Keith. 

“Uh, Pidge? What are you doing?” The others, confused by Shiro’s question, turned back to the truck to see that Pidge had climbed on top of the cab.

“Getting a look around.” she responded, standing up on her tip toes. “Hmmmm. Looks like there might be a junkyard a little farther down.”

“Good place to look for a car.” Hunk said with a smile, walking over to help Pidge down from the roof. He lifted her as though she weighed nothing. 

“Let’s go check it out.”

* * *

 

The junkyard was off to the side of the highway, tucked into a little square of concrete that poked out of the desert. It looked like a post-apocalyptic castle, the entire perimeter flanked by tall fencing topped in barbed wire. Towers of rusted metal rose up from the inside, almost obscuring from view the crumbling portable that had probably served as the main office once upon a time. The gates had been chained shut at some point, but now the chain lay broken on the ground and the gates swung free, creaking slightly in the breeze.

“Alright guys.” Shiro said, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s split up. Hunk, you go look for a usable car. Keith and Pidge, scavenge for more gas. Lance, you and I are going to go check out the office. And remember, keep the noise to a minimum.”

_ At least it’s not Lance _ , Keith thought grumpily to himself as he and Pidge plunged into the forest of rusted metal. Lance had handed off the gas canister to him before they separated, so he held both the canister and the hose in one hand while the other gripped tightly onto the hilt of his knife. Pidge led the way, wielding an ice pick. 

They stopped whenever they could, Keith using his knife to pry open gas caps that hadn’t already rusted off. Unfortunately, they weren’t getting very far. Most of these cars had been totaled before the outbreak, and the majority of them were bone dry. Still, they got a few drops here and there. 

“This one looks promising.” Pidge murmured. Keith looked where she pointed and nodded. It was what looked like a Honda Civic. It’s hood was crumpled, but the rest of it hadn’t been touched. 

They approached cautiously, peering in through the windows before coming closer. So far, so good. Keith set the gas canister on the ground, and at that moment, a decaying arm launched out from beneath the vehicle. 

Keith immediately danced back, hissing a curse as the zombie pulled itself out from underneath the car with one arm. It was snarling quietly, but it didn’t scream like biters or clickers. Just a normal walker then, easy enough to deal with. 

It’s head had just emerged from the undercarriage, flesh sloughing off the back of it’s skull, when Pidge swooped in and buried her pick into it, right at the back of the skull. She stayed, keeping pressure while the Z fumbled at her with it’s one arm, then it gave a twisted cry and finally stopped moving. 

Keith braced his boot on it’s head, helping Pidge pull her pick free. She made a disgusted face and wiped the black blood and gore off on her shorts. 

“Nice job.” Keith said softly, and then quickly returned to the task at hand.

Hunk wasn’t having much of a better time. Almost every time he cracked open a hood or ducked down to look underneath a car, a decaying hand or face would leap out at him. By now he had gotten used to it and was quick to react, but he could still remember the first few weeks of the outbreak when the slightest mention of the undead would turn his stomach. Finally, after dozens of chopped off muerto arms and crushed skulls, he found what he was looking for: a mostly intact Nissan Rogue. It was missing it’s bumpers and the tires were flat, but the engine seemed fine. All it needed was a pump and some gas. He quickly set to work finding the former, and could only hope Keith and Pidge had found the latter.

Lance and Shiro approached the office building in a crouch, unsure of how many Z’s may be within. They were about ten yards from the entrance when they paused, taking cover behind the rusted remains of a Mustang. 

“You hear that?” Lance murmured to Shiro, who gave a tight nod. They could both hear the distinct sounds of clicking coming from the portable, the sound of a Z who had been covered in so much of the fungus it had been rendered blind. It used echolocation to see. 

“Sounds like just one.” Shiro said, and this time it was Lance’s turn to nod. He carefully drew his bow off of his back and knocked one of his homemade arrows. They weren’t ridiculously accurate, but at such a short range it shouldn’t matter. 

“If you can draw it out, I’ll take it down.”

“Can you get a headshot? It’ll be loud if you miss.”

_ Loud, and call all of the biters still in this area _ went unspoken. 

“I can.” Lance reassured him. “I’m an excellent shot.”

“Alright.” Lance was a little surprised Shiro was going along with it so easily, but then again he wasn’t. Shiro wasn’t nearly as difficult as Keith. 

Shiro crept forward and up the creaky metal ramp, his step light and practiced. Lance stood from his hiding place and drew back the bowstring. Shiro glanced back and met his eyes, and Lance nodded. Carefully, Shiro reached out and tapped on the door, the razor's embedded in the duct tape of his knuckle duster clanging against the metal. They both heard the clickers startled squawk, and Shiro pulled back right as it burst through the door. 

It was barely recognizable as human, completely crusted over with the orange fungus. It no longer had a face to speak of, only a mouth, one that was opening quickly to call again.

Lance took a deep breath in, and out, and…

_ Twang! _

One moment the arrow was on his bowstring, and the next it was embedded directly in the center of the clickers forehead, sending it thumping to the floor with nary a squeal. Lance indulged himself in a small victory smirk as he lowered his bow.

“Nice job Lance!” Shiro said, with a genuinely admiring look on his face. “Now let’s see what we can find in here.”

* * *

 

“Yes! We’re back in business, baby!” Lance cheered, throwing his fists in the air. Hunk had just tested the Nissan, and after a few experimental wheezes, it had roared to life as though it hadn’t been sitting around for a year. 

Keith bumped his shoulder lightly against Lance’s. “Hey, loudmouth, just bring a whole herd down on us why don’t ya?”

“Oh please, I think the freakin car is louder than me.”

“That would honestly surprise me.”

“Ok, ok.” Shiro said, coming in between their bickering, “That’s enough.”

Hunk turned the engine off and hopped out of the car, a wide grin on his face. “Finally, something is going right.”

“Hey, check this out!” called Pidge. She was sitting a little way away, cross legged on the hood of a car shell, the city map Lance and Shiro had found spread out in front of her. “Looks like there’s a Wal-Mart just down the road from here. Wanna go do some scavenging?”

Shiro glanced at the sky. It looked to be about 2 am, they still had a while. And now that they had a car, they didn’t necessarily have to travel at night anymore. 

“I’m up for it.” he said with a shrug. 

“So am I.” Keith said, coming to stand alongside his brother. “I need a new shirt, anyway.”

“I would love to get my hands on some food that isn’t roasted desert animal.” Hunk’s voice was pleading as he looked at Lance, who held up his hands.

“I’m not arguing.”

“Alright, guess we’re going scavenging.”

They elected to walk to the store, so as not to waste gas. Besides, it wasn’t that far anyway. 

The building was pretty foreboding in the middle of the night, especially with the few shopping carts lying toppled and abandoned in the parking lot. 

“This is the beginning of a horror movie.” Lance whispered into the darkness. 

“Dude, we’re already in a horror movie.” Hunk said, tightening his fingers around his knife. “It can’t get any worse.”

“Good point.”

The five of them proceeded cautiously into the store, prying open the automatic doors with little trouble. It was pretty dark inside, but their eyes were already fairly well adjusted, so it wouldn’t be too awful so long as they were careful.

They all scattered into the darkness, and for a long time there was a heavy silence in the large building. Lance found himself wandering through the food aisles, scooping up whatever wasn’t expired yet and could still pass as edible. He had just reached aisle eight when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Then he heard the ever so slight step of someone behind him. His muscles tensed, he flicked out his switchblade, spun around, and-

“Keith?!”

“Shhhhh, you idiot! You’ll wake up every Z in the city!”

“Why the hell did you sneak up on me?”

“I didn’t sneak, you’re just unobservant.”

He shoved past Lance, reaching up and snagging a can of soup from a shelf above their heads. From what Lance could see in the dim light, he was still wearing his tank top.

“I thought you said you wanted a new shirt.” he grumbled, a little pissed Keith was all up in his business.

“Couldn’t find one that fit.” Keith said shortly. “This place is already pretty bare.”

“Hmph.” Lance tapped his fingers against his bicep, waiting for Keith to take the hint and go find something else to do, but he didn’t. He just moved a little bit further down the aisle and grabbed another can of soup. Glaring, Lance followed, scavenging food from the other side. They moved together in silence, both of them too stubborn to abandon their task. 

Eventually, Lance got sick of the quiet, but he was also too tired to think of anything snarky. So, with a huff, he was reduced to being nice.

“Hey,” he said softly, catching Keith’s attention, “What food do you miss the most? From before?”

Keith was silent for a long moment, trying to figure out if this was some sort of trap from Lance to get a good jab in. But he couldn’t think of anyway he could do that, so with a sigh, he decided to take the risk and answer honestly.

“Chocolate cake.”

“Really?” Lance’s answer wasn’t sarcastic or mocking for once, but genuinely curious.

“Yeah. Ever had a molten lava cake? That shit was heaven on Earth.”

Lance hummed thoughtfully to himself. “I miss everything my mom used to make. Reminded me of home.”

“Where was home?” Keith’s voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear. At first, when Lance didn’t answer, he worried he had said something wrong, pushed too far. Lance had lived in his town, after all, maybe that was it and Keith was being silly. But when Lance spoke again, he didn’t sound upset. Just… nostalgic.

“Cuba. We moved away when I was ten, but I still miss it.”

“Oh.” Keith couldn’t think of anything else to say. The two of them turned a corner into the next aisle, not looking at each other. They were starting to run out of aisles, and they would have to meet with the others back at the entrance soon. 

“What about you? Where was home? Our town?”

Keith shook his head, remembering too late that Lance probably wasn’t looking at him.

“It was all over.” he said, considering a box of animal crackers before shoving it in his backpack.

“You and Shiro move a lot?” He hesitated before answering, but eventually decided that none of it really mattered anymore. What could it hurt to tell the truth?

“No, just me. I was adopted.”

“When?”

“I was fourteen.”

Lance made an understanding noise, but didn’t say anything else. Keith was surprised. He had expected some sort of attack, maybe something about not even his birth parents wanting him around, but Lance hadn’t gone for it. 

“What happened to your guy’s parents?”

Keith swayed lightly on his feet and dug his teeth into his lip. He hadn’t been expecting such a heavy question, and the urge to revert to defensive snapping nearly got him. But if he answered, Lance would owe him an answer, too. So he took a deep breath and forced the words out.

“I killed them.”

There was a pause, just a small one, barely a second, and then Lance was speaking again.

“They turn?”

“Yeah. First day.”

“Oh.”

“What about your family?”

“I’m not totally sure.” Lance admitted, being careful not to look away from the nearly barren shelves. “I came home and all of my siblings had turned. They were… eating my mom.” Keith gave a sympathetic wince. “She had apparently eaten a bullet before they got her, but…” 

“What about your dad?”

“He stayed in Cuba when we left. Haven’t heard from him since the outbreak.”

There was another pause as Keith thought of something to say. “I hope you find him.” he settled on eventually, praying he wasn’t going to screw this up.

“Yeah.” Lance said shakily. “So do I.”

They had finally reached the end of the food aisles, and they stood there silently for a moment, backs to each other. Until Lance pulled himself together, turned, and socked Keith gently on the arm.

“Come on, Mullet, let’s go meet up with the others.”

Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro were already waiting for them when they arrived at the front doors. Whatever Hunk and Shiro had found was tucked safely away in their backpacks, but Pidge was nearly being smothered underneath the huge pile of blankets she was trying to carry.

“Look what I found!” she exclaimed happily, her voice muffled by the fluff. Lance laughed openly, and Keith buried his chuckle behind his hand. 

“Nice work, Pidge, now we’ll all be comfortable.”

Shiro felt himself smiling softly as he watched all of them interact. As much as he had resisted the idea, being around people besides Shiro had been good for Keith. He hadn’t seen him laugh like that in a long time. 

“Alright guys, let’s get back to the car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves... things get real next chapter.


	4. Faster Than My Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't incredibly clear on this, but at this time, Shiro has both arms. He DOES NOT have a prosthetic. K? K.

The rising sun found them on the road, bouncing over the cracked pavement with what would have been reckless abandon if anyone but Hunk had been driving. Lance had called shotgun and was riding beside him, his window rolled down, letting the wind knock his hair all over the place and sting his eyes. If he closed them, he could almost pretend it was the wind off of the beach back home.

Shiro was in the seat behind Hunk, comfortably pressed up against the side of the car while Keith splayed across the rest of the back seat, resting his head against the window. His eyes were closed, having been lulled to sleep by the slight motion of the car. Even then, he still had his arms crossed across his chest.

Pidge was in the trunk, which was connected to the rest of the car, curled up in a nest she had made herself out of her collected blankets. Lance eyed the gas meter. They had been driving for a few hours now and had left Austin far behind, and the needle was about .1 centimeters from empty. 

He rolled up his window and sat forward, popping open the glove box.

“What are you doing?” Hunk asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace within the vehicle.

“Looking for entertainment.” Lance mumbled, digging through the various papers until he found what he was looking for. “Look! I knew CD’s would be useful again someday.”

Hunk rolled his eyes a little and turned back to the road. “Just keep it down, Keith and Pidge are asleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Lance responded, picking one of the unmarked CD’s at random and popping it into the stereo. His eyes lit up at the first song that came on, some spanish pop song that had become popular just before the outbreak. He sang quietly under his breath, careful not to wake the others. 

Shiro didn’t mind the distraction. He had been thinking too hard and too deeply about things that he couldn’t control. But now he could sit back and watch Lance, who seemed to know every single song on this CD. Hunk and him seemed content enough, Keith was sleeping soundly for once, Pidge was safe- everything seemed fine. Until  _ that song  _ came on.

At first he hadn’t recognized it. He had been nearly asleep, and the low, heavy bass could have belonged to any number of different songs. But after the first few seconds, a chill ran through his whole body, as though he had just been dunked in ice water, and he sprang to attention. 

“I love this song.” Lance murmured to himself, and reached over to tick the volume knob up, just a little. Shiro’s stomach rebelled as the song got louder. He had to turn it off, before Keith woke up, before he lost it.

“Turn it off.” he said gruffly, feeling somewhat frozen by the fear licking up his spine. Lance, not understanding the tone in his voice, just gave a playful smirk.

“Aw, come on Shiro, it’s good.” he crooned, edging the volume higher. 

“Lance, turn it  _ off _ .” he snarled, trying to ignore the urge to clamp his hands over his ears. To his horror, Keith was starting to stir next to him, being awakened by the volume increase. “Lance,  _ please _ .”

Lance just chuckled. He still didn’t understand. If he would just look back, look at Shiro’s face-

Hunk glanced into the rearview mirror and caught Shiro’s frantic gaze. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Uh, Lance, maybe we should-”

“Uh-uh, nope, no can do!” Lance interrupted brashly. “Shiro isn’t going to escape from the clutches of decent music.”

Right after he finished talking, the slightly tinny voice of the singer began, and Shiro felt like he had just been punched in the gut. 

_ “Robert’s got a quick hand,” _

“Lance-”

Keith stirred again, and his eyes cracked open slightly while Shiro desperately tried to keep his panic down. 

_ “He’ll look around the room, he won’t tell you his plan,” _

“Will you turn that down?” Keith snapped irritably. “I’m trying to-”

_ “He’s got a rolled cigarette,”  _

Keith froze mid-sentence. Shiro saw his eyes go wide, saw all of the color drain right out of his face. 

_ “Hanging out his mouth he’s a cowboy kid,” _

“Hunk.” Keith’s voice was low and deadly, something that was more fitting for a movie monster than a skinny 19 year old. “Stop the car.”

“What?” Hunk squeaked nervously, a little overwhelmed by his and Shiro’s scared expressions. 

“Stop the fucking car.” Keith snarled, and when Hunk still didn’t react, he sprang forward and jerked at the wheel. The car skidded to the side, the tires squealing, and the other three passengers let out a collective scream.

“What the fuck is going on?” Pidge shrieked, rudely awakened from her nap by getting tossed into the side wall of the trunk. 

“Keith’s gone crazy!” Lance yelled back. The song was still playing in the background as Hunk frantically tried to slow the car to a stop without killing them all. 

_ “All the other kids with their pumped up kicks, you’d better run, better run,” _

The Rogue finally began to slow as Hunk pulled it to the side of the road, and it had barely stopped moving before Keith was scrambling out, Shiro hot on his heels. He collapsed on his hands and knees, oblivious to the rocks cutting through his gloves and into his palms. Lance was still yelling, and Hunk was yelling back, and maybe Pidge was too, but he couldn’t really hear them. All he could hear was the song, that stupid, fucking-

Suddenly he was retching, emptying his stomach into the dirt. Shiro was there, murmuring to him, rubbing his back, but still all he could hear was the song, the song, the song…

Pidge finally freed herself from the trunk, crawling over the backseat and practically falling headlong out the door Keith and Shiro had left open. She barely caught herself, grimacing and rubbing her aching neck.

“Lance, Hunk, what the hell-” she started to snap, but then Keith started talking. He was still heaving, even though he had nothing left to throw up, and in between he was babbling something to Shiro, sounding more freaked out than she had ever heard him. 

“Shiro, Shiro, make it stop. Please, make it stop, make it stop, make it-”

Her eyes widened behind her glasses when she realized, and she whirled on the other two boys, who were just standing there and staring like a couple of idiots.

“Hunk, turn off the car!” she exclaimed. Hunk just looked at her, confused. She opened her mouth to explain, but instead what came out was a frustrated shriek, and she clambered back into the car. 

She yanked the keys out of the ignition, and as silence fell over the desert, Keith made a sound of relief that sounded an awful lot like a sob. Shiro was there, pulling him in close and cradling him as Keith shook and clutched at his hair. The older brother looked pretty pale and shaken himself, but he was holding himself together for Keith, comforting him as he fought for control.

The other three could do nothing but watch in stunned silence. 

“What… what did we do?” Hunk whispered, voice cracking. 

Pidge swallowed hard. “It was the song. There’s something about it that they… they just…”

Keith dug his nails into his scalp. Even though it had finally stopped, he could still hear it, in his head. He choked on another sob, clawing at himself until Shiro lightly grasped his wrists and pulled his hands away. 

“It’s ok.” Shiro murmured into his ear. “It’s ok, you’re ok, we’re safe, it’s ok.”

“Sh-shiro, I can’t-”

“Shhhhhhhhh, it’s ok, just breathe, deep breaths, remember?”

Keith breathed in shakily and held it, just like Shiro had told him to do so many times. After eight seconds, he let it out again, and it came more easily, less choppy. He did it again, and it was only then he realized Shiro was doing it too. Gently pulling his wrists out of Shiro’s grip, he wrapped his arms around his brother's waist and leaned into his shoulder. And so they sat there in the dust, the sun beating down on their shoulders, just holding each other and trying to breathe. 

God only knows how much time passed before someone was tapping on Keith’s shoulder. He flinched away at first, but then recognized who it was as he blinked up at their face. It was Pidge, holding out a water bottle to him. He took it without a word, trying for a smile but not confident he succeeded. Pidge smiled at him, so he must have, or Shiro must have. He washed out his mouth, spitting the acrid taste of vomit into the dirt. 

“Car won’t start.” she said conversationally, as though nothing had happened. “Must have finally run out of gas.”

“That didn’t last long.” Keith’s voice was raspy. 

“Still, sped the trip up.” Shiro answered, finally pulling away from Keith. “Made it a couple of days shorter, at least. We can sleep in it today and then keep going.”

Keith chanced a look back at the car. Lance was sitting in the passenger seat with the door open, turned sideways to face them with his knees drawn up. His expression was unreadable. Hunk was in a similar position in the back seat, but his face was an open book. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. 

“Don’t cry.” he found himself saying, though he didn’t know why. All his words did was make the tears well up in Hunks eyes.

“Too late.” he whimpered, and then he was bawling into his hands. “I’m so sorry, guys, we should have turned the song off, we didn’t-”

“It’s ok, Hunk.” Shiro said with a bit of an astonished chuckle. “It’s ok.”

That just made Hunk cry harder. Shiro looked to Lance for help, and just got a shrug. 

“You just gotta wait it out.” was his advice. “He’ll get over it in a few minutes.”

As promised, after a few awkward minutes Hunk’s tears dried up, and he was reduced to sad sniffles. Keith and Shiro were utterly baffled, but Lance and Pidge were completely unbothered. 

“We should get some sleep, and then get moving again when it gets dark.” said Pidge, offering a hand to Keith. He hesitated for a second, but then took it and let Pidge pull him to his feet. He bit his lip, considering, and then opened his mouth. 

“Pidge, I’m-”

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

The tiniest shadow of a smile crept onto his face. “Ok.”

The desert was rapidly heating up again, so to make the car at least semi comfortable to sleep in, they opened all of the doors and the trunk, letting the breeze move through. Hunk volunteered for first watch, and Pidge distributed blankets. She stayed in the trunk, curled up in what remained of her nest, while Keith and Shiro managed to shove themselves together in the backseat. Lance, sleeping in the passenger seat, reclined his seat over their legs. Hunk sat on the hood, holding his shotgun. 

It took Shiro a long time to fall asleep, and it took Keith even longer. Every time he tried, he could hear that song playing in his head, and if he had anything left in his stomach, he would have thrown up again. But he didn’t, and eventually pure exhaustion dragged him under.

Hunk woke Pidge for second watch, and then Pidge woke Lance. He reclined against the windshield, mindlessly cleaning his rifle as he watched the sun set. Every so often he would glance back into the car, just to make sure everyone was still ok. Surprisingly, Keith and Shiro didn’t wake up, though their rest was clearly far from unbothered. Sometimes Keith would make a little distressed sound, or Shiro would twitch and curl one of his fists, but the other was always there to comfort them, even in their sleep. Lance felt a harsh pang of jealousy every time he looked at them.

He missed his siblings. He missed his mom, and his dad, and their house on Varadero Beach. And it just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he lost his family, when Keith, who always had everything, who always made everything look effortless, got to keep his. It wasn’t fair that he and Pidge had lost their siblings, and Keith got to hang on to his. And he didn’t even have parents, not really. All of them had lost their real parents, even Shiro, the ones that had taken care of them their entire lives. Keith lost a couple of people he had known for four years. It wasn’t even close to the same.

Suddenly, where there had been jealousy, there was now anger beating away at Lance’s ribcage. What right did Keith have to act oh so traumatized? What could have possibly happened to him to warrant all of this fuss and concern? Yeah, he had to kill his adoptive parents, big deal. Hunks moms tried to eat him. Pidge’s parents killed themselves right in front of her. What made Keith so freakin  _ special? _

He was still seething when the others began to awaken, and though he kept a lid on it, it was a weak one. He barely kept all of the angry words from pouring forth, and the only reason he was trying so hard was for Hunk and Pidge.

The group was silent when they resumed their trek, this time keeping to the highway. There was a certain tension in the air, and Keith anxiously ran his thumb over his knuckles, certain he knew what was causing it. His breakdown that morning had been… dramatic, and probably a little over the top, and despite what Pidge said, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. And Lance wasn’t helping.

He was unusually quiet, his shoulders hunched and his face like a storm cloud. Unfortunately, Keith had never been good at people, and he had absolutely no idea what Lance could be so upset about. So he left him alone and tried to ignore the hostility coming off of the other boy in waves.

After the first few miles, Keith took up his position a little way in front of the rest of the group, scouting ahead for potential threats. As soon as he was out of earshot, Pidge turned on Lance.

“Alright, spill.” she said bluntly, shooting him a glare. “What’s got your panties all in a twist?”

Lance scowled at the pavement, kicking a loose piece out of his path. “Nothing.”

“If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be practically dripping with animosity.  _ Spill _ .”

“Fine.” Lance snarled. “It’s Keith.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “What, you pissed he can pull off a mullet better than you?”

“No.” The word was a vicious snap, and Lance had to take a breath. It was Keith he was angry with, not Pidge. “It’s just… why does he get to act so fuckin’ damaged all the time? None of us have had charmed lives.”

“That’s not fair, man.” Hunk said, coming up on Lance’s other side. “You don’t know everything about his life.”

“I know enough.” Lance retorted hotly. “He’s all bent out of shape because he lost his adoptive parents, but he only knew them for a few years, unlike all of us who lost our real parents.”

Shiro was walking behind him, and he could feel him tensing up with anger, but now that Lance had opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop.

“He always got everything so easily, never had to try, but now the world is fucked and  _ everyone _ is suffering but he’s still special.”

“Hunk is right.” said Shiro, his voice tense with barely controlled rage. “You don’t know jack  _ shit _ about Keith, or what’s happened to him. Nothing in his life has ever been easy. And maybe you would know that if you stopped being a dick to him for five minutes.”

Lance hunched his shoulders and looked away, cheeks heating up. He didn’t like being told off by Shiro, and he still had shit to say, but he didn’t want to cause unnecessary drama in the group either. Shiro pushed past him roughly (though still being careful not to knock him over) and picked up his pace, trying to catch up with Keith.

“That was a dick move, Lance.” Pidge muttered. “The guy had a goddamn break down and you’re angry with him because he’s getting more attention than you?”

Lance shook his head, seething with frustration. “No, that’s not why.”

“Well whatever it is, you need to get over it.” Pidge had never been one for mincing words, and right now that trait was not doing anything to help Lance’s mood. “He never did anything to you, so just leave him alone.”

Hunk was a little softer, wrapping an arm around Lance’s shoulders, settling awkwardly over his gun and his backpack.

“I get where you’re coming from.” he said quietly, eyeing Shiro’s retreating back. “He never looked like he was trying in school, and family wise he’s gotten better off than any of us have during this whole outbreak. But we don’t know everything, and it’s not fair to judge him based on a bunch of assumptions.”

“Yeah, ok.” Lance huffed, shoving down the anger in his chest. It wasn’t gone; it still lurked in the back of his mind, tingeing everything with just a hint of bitterness. But, for now at least, he could ignore it. And so the group continued to walk, a bit fragmented, and in complete silence, for hours.

Up ahead, Keith let the tip of his bat knock against the black top every few seconds. If there were any biters hiding around here, he wanted to draw them out before the group walked by, before they could get the element of surprise. He paused for a moment to tie his hair up, and just as he was pulling the ponytail taut, there was a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. In a half second he had his bat back in hand and was spinning to meet the threat trying to flank him.

Biters were fast, but Keith was faster. It barely had time to snarl before the baseball bat was slamming into the side of its head, knocking it clear off of its feet. It scraped against the ground with a shriek, but before it could get up, Keith was standing over it. He brought the bat down with all of his strength, right onto the biters face.

It’s head exploded like a watermelon, black blood spattering everywhere. He stood still for a moment, panting and letting the adrenaline leak back out of his system, and then glared up at the horizon. There was a dip in the road here, and he couldn’t see that far ahead, but where there were biters there were usually others too. 

Using a crashed wreck of car as a step stool, he peered into the distance, and his jaw clenched. Just as he had expected.

Keith hopped down from the car and jogged back towards the others. Shiro was walking quite a ways in front of them, shoulders tense and fists clenched. Keith made a mental note to ask him about it later, but right now they had bigger problems.

“Guys,” he called when he was close enough, still out of breath, “there’s a herd, about a mile up ahead of us.”

Lance threw back his head and groaned dramatically, as though his life was over. The moonlight reflecting off of Pidge’s glasses kept him from seeing her eyeroll. 

“How many are there?” she asked, and Keith shrugged, standing in the middle of the road and waiting for the others to catch up. 

“I don’t know, maybe thirty or so?” Absentmindedly, he wiped away a drop of black blood that was making it’s way down his forehead towards his eye. “Too many to fight through.”

“Great.” Hunk sighed. “So much for the highway.”

“Not necessarily.” Keith said, pointing off to his right. “See the metal over there? The highway curves around. If we cut into the desert here, we should be able to get back onto it without running into the herd.”

They had finally caught up with him, and now they all stood in a loose circle, shoulders slumping with the weight of their backpacks and weapons. Shiro glanced at the horizon, where the moon was about to set. 

“It’s not a bad idea.” he said. “Though we’ll have to camp in the desert again.”

“Better than camping right down the road from a herd.” Pidge chimed in, shifting the weight of her bag and lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I say we go for it.”

“I’m good with this idea.” Hunk said, and then they all turned their gazes to Lance.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he asked. There was a smile on his face, but his voice still had a little bit of an edge to it. “Let’s get moving, before the herd figures out we’re here.”

So Shiro led them off of the highway and back into the desert dirt. The sky was gradually growing lighter as dawn approached, and they could all see where the highway curved around, waiting for them. But the distance between the two portions was actually a few miles across and the group stopped pretty much in the middle of the pavement horseshoe to set up camp.

There weren’t any trees or large cacti here, only bushes, which the group used as shelter as best as they could. They were stuck eating what they had scavenged from the store, but none of them complained. It was still better than unseasoned desert rat.

The aura of the group was still strained. Lance was still being unusually quiet and solemn, and without him to fill the void, silence reigned. The tension hadn’t left Shiro’s shoulders either.

Keith was on edge. Had his little freak out really caused this much discord with the others? And if that was the cause, why was Shiro acting like he was angry too? Keith let his brain get all tangled up in these thoughts, until he was twitching. What the hell was going  _ on? _

Eventually, after they had finished eating, Lance finally spoke up.

“So, Keith.”

At first, he just felt an intense wave of relief, something he never expected to feel in response to Lance, of all people. He didn’t notice the weird look on Lance’s face, and he didn’t mind that he was probably going to poke fun at him again. He was just happy somebody was saying something.

“Yeah?”

“What was that all about? With the song?”

Instantly, all of the relief evaporated, replaced by anger and the beginnings of panic. His body unconsciously mimicked his mental shut down, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, his face twisting into a scowl.

“Lance.” Shiro’s voice held a warning, but Lance either didn’t hear it or didn’t care. 

“None of your business.” he growled, glowering over his knees at the other boy. Lance just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Not to be a dick or anything, but if something like a song is enough to take you down, I think it just may be our business. Ya know, so we don’t rely on you in an emergency and  _ die _ .”

“Nothing like that is gonna happen.” Hunk said, anxiously wringing his hands in the background. But Lance ignored him, simply leaning forward across his crossed legs. Even though Keith was several feet away, he found himself leaning back and away from Lance. 

“Come on, Keith. What is it about that one song that freaks you guys out so much?”

“Shut up.” was all he could think to say, digging his nails into his arms. 

“It’s just a song, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Shut  _ up. _ ”

“Lance, stop.” Pidge grabbed his arm, but he shook her off easily, not taking his eyes off of Keith. That gaze was pinning him down. It was dangerous. It was trying to hurt him.

He saw Lance’s mouth move, but he didn’t hear what he said. Sound was fading out, replaced by a high pitched whine that drove right into his skull. He couldn’t think. The sick feeling in his stomach exploded, and the next thing he knew he wasn’t sitting anymore. He was on top of Lance, knocking him back against the ground, his knife in his hand and pressed dangerously against his opponent's throat.

“If you don’t shut your mouth right now,” he growled, in a voice barely recognizable as his own, “I will cut your tongue out and shove it down your  _ fucking  _ throat.”

He didn’t see Lance’s blue eyes underneath him, or hear the astounded cries of his friends. The dirt under his knees had changed to the sand of the arena. Blood pounded in his ears, but it still wasn’t loud enough to drown out the roar of the crowd.

_ Red Lion. Red Lion. Red Lion. _

He knew his opponent. He was another prisoner, but he didn’t act like it. He was arrogant and self-absorbed, bragging that when he finally went up against the Champion, he would beat him into the ground and make him beg for mercy. But that night he hadn’t faced the Champion. He had faced the Red Lion, and Keith wasn’t nearly as nice as Shiro, he had absolutely destroyed him, torn him  _ apart _ -

“Keith!”

Then there were hands on him, pulling him off, and the arena vanished. It was replaced by a desert, embraced by a dilapidated highway, the rising sun revealing the terror on the faces of Hunk, Pidge, and especially Lance. His muscles immediately went lax, the dagger tumbling from his fingers. His knees went out from under him, and Shiro had to lower him gently back into a sitting position. 

“Keith, what the hell was that?” But Keith wasn’t listening to Shiro, he was staring over his shoulder, at where Lance was clinging to a terrified Hunk. Pidge stood in between the two pairs, looking helplessly between them, unsure who to help. 

He shook his head slowly. His hair tie had fallen out, and his hair brushed against the back of his neck with a slight tickle. It brought him slightly back down to Earth, slightly back out of the fog, enough to answer Shiro.

“I-I don’t know. I was- I didn’t-” He stopped and took a deep breath, and Shiro thankfully let him. His grip on Keith’s shoulders was tight, as though to prevent him from lunging again, but the look on his face was concerned, not angry. 

“I thought I was in the arena.” Keith finally forced out in a whisper, hands curling into fists. Shiro’s face melted, and he pulled his brother into a hug. “I could hear them cheering.” he murmured into Shiro’s shoulder, closing his eyes against the unwanted memory. “It wasn’t Lance, it was one of them, one of the people I killed-”

Shiro tried to hush him. He knew what it was like, having flashbacks, though he was a little surprised. Keith had never had one before. 

“I’m sorry.” Keith said, fisting his hands into the bottom of Shiro’s shirt. “Shiro, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Shiro hummed to him. “I know, I know.”

“Did I hurt him?”

Shiro pulled back enough to glance over his shoulder. Lance was still a wreck, blubbering to Hunk and Pidge, who was trying to check him over for injuries. 

“No, you didn’t.”

Keith let out a relieved breath and curled closer to him, just as Pidge looked up and caught Shiro’s gaze. 

“Is Keith ok?” she called over to him. Lance immediately detangled himself from Hunk with an indignant squawk. 

“Is  _ Keith  _ ok?” he repeated, waving his arms dramatically at Pidge. “He tried to kill me!”

“He didn’t mean to.” Shiro said. Keith could hear the rumble of his voice in his chest and pressed closer, not wanting to look at Lance’s face. He might just die from guilt if he did.

“Oh, he didn’t mean to?” Lance planted his hands on his hips. “What part of tackling me with a freaking  _ knife to my throat _ wasn’t meaning to??”

Shiro tightened his grip on his little brother. “He was having a flashback.” he said defensively. “He felt threatened by you.”

“ _ He  _ felt threatened by  _ me _ ?!” Lance whirled back to his companions, who were watching with varying expressions of discomfort. “Hunk, Pidge, are you two hearing this?”

“Well,” Pidge said with a wince, pushing her glasses up, “Based on what I know about psychology, it makes sense.” 

“Can you, uh, explain that?” Hunk stammered, eyeing Keith nervously. Keith didn’t notice, he still had his head buried in Shiro’s chest. 

“The song from earlier was probably a trigger for past trauma,” Pidge answered, sounding like she was reciting a textbook passage. “And when Lance kept pushing about the trigger, Keith felt threatened, and his brain went back to a time when he felt the same way but came out on top. Like a safety mechanism.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Lance blustered, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl. Pidge frowned reproachfully at him.

“It’s not. We all have trauma, and we all probably have triggers that would remind us of it. We just haven’t had to face them yet.”

“I’m sorry, Lance.” Keith mumbled, catching everyone’s attention. “I’m sorry.”

Lance just harrumphed and turned away, earning himself looks from Hunk and Pidge.

“Maybe you should apologize too, Lance.” she said sharply. “I mean, it is kinda your fault.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Lance exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “Even when he almost kills me, everyone is  _ still  _ on his side!” He whipped around to glare at Keith, who had just chanced a look up. He immediately flinched back, letting go of Shiro to dig his nails into his arms again. 

“I’ll leave, if you guys want.” he said, tripping slightly over his words. “I’ll go.”

“Yes.” Lance said, just as everyone else cried the opposite. 

“Lance, none of this would have happened if you had just left him alone!” Pidge snapped, face hot with anger. 

“When did Keith usurp my place as your friend?” Lance shot back. 

“He didn’t usurp anything! I am capable of caring about more than one person at once, you know!”

“Ok, ok!” Shiro said, projecting the perfect dad voice. “It’s nobody’s fault! It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Hmph, a misunderstanding, he says.” Lance muttered grumpily, rubbing his neck. 

“He didn’t even nick you.” Pidge took several steps away from Lance and started unrolling her blankets, fingertips twitching with nervous energy. “If Keith really wanted to hurt you, he could’ve.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“But he  _ didn’t _ . So stop being a baby.”

“Excuse me for not wanting to be killed in my sleep.”

Pidge opened her mouth to keep arguing, but Hunk cut in.

“What’s gotten into you, Lance?” he asked softly, laying a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You’re usually way more understanding than this.”

“Somehow all of you are still missing the part when he could have killed me.”

“Look.” Shiro stood up, leaving Keith where he was, still gouging into his arms with his fingernails. “Keith and I both have issues. A lot of them. Probably PTSD. If that makes you uncomfortable, Lance, we’ll leave.”

“No!” Pidge exclaimed, blankets forgotten for the moment. “You’re the only connection I have to my brother, you can’t leave now!” 

Lance made a sound that almost sounded like a raptor screeching and turned away from all of them. “Whatever, ok. Do what you want. Just don’t let your stupid mullet brother anywhere near me with that knife again.”

Pidge flopped backwards onto her blanket. “Great. Now that that’s settled, I’m going to sleep. Whoever wants watch can have it.”

Keith started to volunteer, but Lance cut him off with a nasty look and said he would do it himself. Keith found himself being forced to sleep by Shiro, even though he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to risk having a nightmare and making Lance even angrier at him. But Shiro insisted. And eventually, he couldn’t resist any longer. 


	5. Desert Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group keeps pushing towards the Garrison, while tensions between Keith and Lance continue to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAAALLLLLLL I'm so sorry this is up a few hours later than usual I got caught up with school and other stuff but here we are enjoy!

The next couple of days were quiet, all things considered. They followed the highway, only occasionally having to fight off the odd Z or two. Lance kept up his animated conversation with Pidge and Hunk while avoiding Keith like the plague. So Keith stayed ahead of the main group, scouting, giving Lance plenty of room. Through masterful manipulation of the watch schedule, Shiro managed to keep Keith nightmare free, or at least quiet enough that Lance didn’t notice.

On the third night after the whole flashback drama, Keith heard light footsteps behind him, and turned to see Pidge catching up with him.

“Hey.” she said when she reached him, slightly out of breath.

“Hey.” Keith’s voice was soft and unsure, but Pidge didn’t seem to notice. 

“So, I had a question for you. If Naruto was a zombie apocalypse, who would die first?”

“Uh…” This wasn’t at all what he had been expecting, but the random subject was a welcome distraction. “Hinata.”

“Predictable choice, but I think Neji.”

“What?”

“Hear me out. They all fall under a stereotype, right? So Hinata is the innocent little girl untouched by all of the evil in the world, and Neji is the stone cold badass who doesn’t care about anyone else. But, in a dramatic moment of character development, he sacrifices himself to save Hinata from the zombie hordes.”

“Huh.” Keith kicked at a rock on the road and allowed himself to actually think deeply about this. “I woulda thought Sasuke would be the stone cold badass.”

“I mean, he is, but he’s the stone cold badass who secretly cares a whole lot.”

“So if everyone has a stereotype, who are you?”

Pidge half heartedly punched his arm. “I’m the brains,  _ obviously _ .”

Keith chuckled, not bothering to cover it with his hand. “Yeah, I should’ve guessed that one.”

“And you,” she lightly rammed her side into his, making him miss a step, “Are the edgy knife expert.”

“I’m not an expert.” he protested, but he was smiling. “I just know how to use one. Besides, I think your ice pick is cooler.”

“Oh yeah?” she raised a self indulgent eyebrow.

“Yeah. It suits you.”

“Do you have a gun? I always see Shiro carrying his.”

Keith wordlessly pulled his pistol from his waistband and handed it to her. She hefted it carefully in her hands for a moment before giving it back.

“You know how to use one?” Keith asked.

“Yeah, I just think they’re too noisy.”

“Can’t fault you for that. I keep telling Shiro not to haul it around since we barely use them anyway, but he’s sentimental.”

“Trust me, I’ve told Lance the same thing.”

Silence fell at the mention of Lance, the scraping of their feet against the pavement the only sound for a long minute. 

“I really wasn’t trying to hurt him.” Keith said eventually, keeping his gaze stubbornly on the ground. 

“I know, I believe you.” Pidge said immediately, without a hint of doubt. “Honestly, I have no idea what’s gotten into him. I’ve never seen him act like this before, not to anybody.”

“That’s just my luck,” Keith replied with a tiny smile, “I’m the one person in the universe Lance despises, and we just happen to run into each other in the apocalypse.”

But Pidge didn’t take the bait, and just shook her head, her serious look still on her face.

“I really don’t get it.” her voice was quiet, almost like she was talking to herself. “I know you two don’t get along, but he’s usually so friendly.”

Keith just shrugged, itching to get the conversation away from Lance. “I must’ve done something to him at some point. It’s probably my fault.”

Pidge frowned at him, opened her mouth, and then promptly disappeared from Keith’s sight.

She hit the ground hard, letting out a half angry cry when her hands scraped against the pavement, and kicked viciously backwards at the walker who had grabbed her by the ankle. It didn’t do much, but in the next second Keith was there, grabbing her by her wrists and pulling as hard as he could. The sudden burst of force hauled them back several feet, pulling the walker along with them out from underneath the car it had been lurking in. It was only half of a body, but it’s arms were strong, still trying to pull Pidge closer to bite. Until Keith, still clinging to Pidge with his other hand, drew his knife and plunged it into one of the walkers arms. 

It let out an enraged shriek and released Pidge, clawing desperately at the blade that had it pinned to the ground. The two of them scrambled backwards, both breathing hard and fast. 

“Are you ok?” Keith asked, holding the younger girl securely by the shoulders as his gaze swept over her in search of bites. There was the sound of thundering feet, and before she could answer she was being pulled away, and then Shiro was in front of him. 

“What happened?” he asked tersely, trying to make him hold still, but Keith kept trying to bounce around him, to get back to Pidge. 

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Lance snapped bitterly, pushing Pidge towards Hunk who began fretting over her like a mother hen. “Keith snapped again and went after Pidge.”

“No, that’s not-” Keith tried, but Pidge got there first.

“Look with your eyes, you absolute moron!” She clipped, pointing at the walker who was still flailing at Keith’s knife. Hunk had forced her to sit as he inspected her, and now she glared up at Lance, surprisingly scary for such a small girl. “ _ That _ attacked me. Keith protected me!”

But Lance would not be placated. He just turned to glare at Keith again, making him shrink back behind Shiro. “Looks like our “scout” wasn’t doing his job, huh?” he snarled. 

Irritation flared up in Keith’s chest, and he shoved Shiro out of the way. Lance blanched and backed up, probably expecting another attack, but Keith utterly ignored him and stalked towards Pidge. 

“Did it bite you?” he asked her, trying not to let his anger bleed into his voice. She shook her head and pushed her glasses back up on her nose.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Keith released the breath he had been holding, his anger at Lance dulling as relief washed over him. Hunk was still fussing over Pidge, but she pushed him away impatiently, glaring at the walker. Pulling her ice pick, she stomped over and promptly buried it into the things skull. It gave one last shriek of defiance, and then went still. 

Keith was the first to approach as she pulled her weapon out of the Z. 

“How are your hands?” he asked, watching Pidge roughly clean off her pick before shoving it back into her belt. 

“They sting a little.” she admitted, wincing slightly as she inspected the torn skin. There wasn’t any blood, but it still looked like it hurt. 

“Hold on.” Keith said, swinging his backpack around to dig through it. After a moment of rummaging, he emerged triumphant with some bandages and a bottle of peroxide. 

“It’s not that bad.” Pidge protested, making a face, but Keith just looked at her expectantly until she caved and held out her hand.

She winced slightly when the peroxide hit her wound, but it wasn’t too bad once Keith plastered the large square Band-Aids over her palms. He smoothed one down with his thumb, and then released her. Pidge sucked her lip between her teeth, remembering with a pang a time when Matt used to do the same thing for her. But everyone was looking at her, so she shoved the thought away and gave Keith a smile.

“Cool, thanks. Now let’s keep going.”

“Maybe you should hang back with us from now on, Pidge.” Lance said, shooting Keith an untrusting look.

Pidge rolled her eyes at him. “Uh, no, it’s way more fun up here with Keith. Now let’s  _ go _ .”

She grabbed Keith’s arm, and he barely had time to pull his knife out of the walker before she was pulling him along, eager to get back ahead of the others. 

The rest of them had no choice but to follow.

* * *

 

As they continued on their path, the desert began to change. It was less rocky, more dusty. Cacti and trees were replaced by large, scraggly bushes. Clouds streaked across the sky more often, and the air grew cooler at night. Pidge said it was sometime in October, though she couldn’t pin down an actual date. The temperature during the day dropped as well, and the wind picked up. They switched to traveling during the day, blinking dust out of their eyes and chewing on grit constantly. 

This change did not do wonders for the team dynamic. Lance was still cold and distrustful of Keith, and even though he had understood at first, he was beginning to get fed up with it. Shiro was reaching the end of his patience as well, though he was much better at hiding it. The closer and closer they drew to Galra territory, the snappier Keith got and the more tired Shiro appeared, until finally everything came to a head.

That night they were all curled up around the campfire, settling down for whatever sleep they could get. Hunk was technically set to be on watch, though Pidge was still awake, studying her map. 

“If Shiro’s information is correct,” she said, drawing everyone’s attention, “we’ll be entering Galra territory tomorrow.” 

Keith and Shiro, laying on their shared blanket, both tensed up. But Lance, flippant as ever, shrugged and kept his gaze fixed on the stars above. 

“But,” Pidge continued before Lance could say something snarky, “The Garrison is pretty close to the border, so it should only be about a day’s worth of travel before we’re within their perimeter.” 

“That’s good.” Shiro said, almost too quietly to hear. 

Pidge rolled up her map and tucked it into her backpack before reclining back on her own blanket. “So long as nothing goes wrong, we should be knocking on the Garrison’s door in the next day and a half.”

“Finally.” Hunk huffed, hugging his gun closer to his chest. 

“Everybody should get some sleep.” Shiro said. “Including you, Keith.”

Keith grumbled at him, but he couldn’t really argue. He  _ was _ tired, but his stomach was also all in knots at the thought of crossing back into Galra territory. His memories were blurry, but he could remember clearly the day they finally made it out.

_ The hunters had been chasing them for hours. Days. They were so tired. They barely had time to sleep, they definitely didn’t have time to eat. One of Shiro’s arms was broken, Keith was still having hallucinations. They didn’t know where they were going. They might have been going in circles for all they knew. But they had to keep going. They had to keep walking, keep running. They couldn’t give up, not after all of that.  _

_ So they kept going. Keith made a makeshift splint for Shiro, and Shiro used his good arm to keep Keith upright, and they kept going. They made their way through the shrubbery and the tumbleweeds, staggering, but still hoping they were going in a straight line.  _

_ “Ha! Finally found you.” They both froze at the sound of a voice behind them, breath halting in their throats. Slowly, Keith looked over his shoulder. Two galra soldiers stood behind them, a satisfied smirk on one of their faces, a frown on the other. The smirking one was missing an arm and an eye, but he didn’t need either of those things to fire the gun he had pointing at Shiro’s back.  _

_ They both cautiously turned towards the men, who both bore the messy purple Galra brand on their right hands. Keith edged in front of Shiro, but with how pale and thin he was, he didn’t look all that intimidating. And he knew it.  _

_ “Lotor will be so pleased we finally caught his little pets.” the smirking one continued, almost conversationally. Both Keith and Shiro shuddered at the name. “And I’m sure he’ll punish you soundly for running away.” _

_ Keith’s eyes watered and his fists clenched. He wouldn’t go back, he couldn’t go back, not to the tiny dark closet where nothing was real, not back to that endless song looping through his head while Shiro screamed, not back to that monster picking through his head and pushing all of the right buttons until he felt like he would give anything just to make him shut up. He wasn’t going back, he would make them kill him before he went back.  _

_ Shiro wrapped his good arm around his shoulders and pulled him back, first one step, then another. He could feel his older brother shaking against him, knew he was just as scared. The one with the gun could see it too, written all over their pale faces, and it made his smirk widen into a sickening grin.  _

_ “Come now, little birdies,” he crooned, “Don’t make this difficult.” _

_ The other man, silent until now, laid a hand on his partner's arm. “We can’t, Sendak.” he said quietly, frowning fiercely at the two of them. “We chased them too far. We’re out of bounds.” _

_ “Oh, who cares?” snarled Sendak. “Lotor sent us to get them back or kill them, and I’m not going to piss him off.” _

_ The other man’s face was thin and solemn, and so was his voice when he spoke again. “We’re in Voltron territory now. If they hear that we captured or killed in their backyard, they’ll surely retaliate. I think Lotor would be more angry about another war with them than about these two.” _

_ Shiro took another two steps back, dragging Keith with him. Keith clutched at his wrist, breathing fast. The world was starting to change again, twist back into that damned darkness, and he had to bit the inside of his cheek to smother the whine that tried to force its way up his throat.  _

_ Sendak snarled again and turned back to his targets. His smile was long gone.  _

_ “Fine.” he growled, shoving his pistol back into his waistband. “You two get lost. You ever set foot in Galra territory again, and there won’t be enough of you left to escape a second time.” _

Keith shivered violently, and Shiro lightly patted his shoulder. “It’s gonna be ok.” he whispered. “Just try to rest.”

He curled more tightly into his hoodie, scrunching his eyes shut and praying Shiro was right.

He wasn’t.

Hunk was still on watch when the nightmare started. At first he missed the little noises of distress coming from Keith, but when he started twitching, he noticed. His face was screwed up in terror, his arms and legs moving as though he was fending someone off. Hunk bit his lip, wondering if he should get involved, and then he remembered what happened with Lance and decided against it. Hopefully Shiro would wake up and deal with it.

But he didn’t. Shiro was sound asleep, and didn’t feel his brother writhing next to him. Keith made another panicked sound, and Hunk nearly stood up. But at that moment, the screaming started.

Something terrible must have happened in his dream, because suddenly Keith was  _ howling _ , jolting everybody violently awake. 

Pidge almost instantly leapt to her feet, hair poofy and glasses askew, blinking owlishly in what remained of the firelight. Lance jolted upright, looking panicked for a moment, and then he figured out what was causing the sound, and his expression melted to anger. Shiro was awake and alert immediately, and tried to reach out for his brother. But the moment he touched Keith, the younger boy whipped around and slammed his fist into Shiro’s gut.

Shiro’s breath left him with a  _ whoosh _ , all while Keith shrieked and thrashed. Hunk started forward, a nervous glint in his eye, but Shiro stopped him with a held out palm. 

The other three watched in chilled fear as Shiro gently grabbed his brother’s wrists. Keith was still screaming at the top of his lungs, but there were beginning to be words mixed in with the strangled cries.

“No, no I can’t go back! You can’t take me back, I won’t let you, no!” 

Shiro was patient with him. He took a few more hits from Keith’s kicking feet, but eventually managed to pull him upright and against his chest, wrapping his arms around so that he could hold Keith’s wrists firmly in front of him. Keeping them pinned with one hand, he gently stroked Keith’s hair back from his face. His voice was beginning to quiet, his movements less harried.

“No,” he still whimpered, turning his head this way and that, trying to escape Shiro’s touch. “No.”

“Shhhhhh.” Shiro murmured quietly to him. “It’s ok, Keith. It’s just a dream, you’re ok.”

That’s when Hunk saw the tear streaks on Keith’s pale face, and his heart ached for the other boy.

Slowly, Keith was starting to wake up. His arms stilled, his protests faded away. Pidge sank back to the ground, sitting on her blanket and watching with concerned eyes. Lance had half a mind to just turn over and try to go back to sleep, but he watched anyway, his face blank.

Keith’s eyes blinked open, and for a moment he just sat there, dazed. Then they focused, and his breathing ramped up again. 

“Hey, hey,” Shiro said, trying to get his attention. Keith’s pupils went to pinpricks, and he wrenched his hands out of Shiro’s grip to clutch at his arms.

“Shiro?”

Shiro sat him up and turned him around, so that he was sitting on his knees and they could look at each other. Keith immediately threw his arms around his brothers middle, burying his face into his shoulder. He was talking again, loud, as though he had forgotten the others were there. 

“I couldn’t take it, Shiro, I couldn’t- I couldn’t be like you, I did it all wrong, I lost myself in there, I didn’t know what was real anymore, I forgot who I was, and I can’t do it again, I won’t make it out again, I’ll lose myself again and I won’t be able to find my way back, and God, Shiro, I’m just  _ so fucking sorry _ .” His voice cracked on the last three words, and then he was sobbing his lungs out while Shiro held him and rubbed his back and tried his best to comfort him. 

The other’s watched, still as statues, at a loss. Pidge had a terribly sad look on her face, the fading embers from the fire making her look much younger than she was. Hunk felt tears rising in his own eyes, but sternly brushed them away. And Lance just stared, still without a single expression.

Keith’s back shuddered with every breath. It was clear that he didn’t want to cry, but just couldn’t help it. 

“I’m sorry, Shiro.” he gasped out. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Shiro responded, lightly rubbing his back. “It’s not your fault.”

Pidge shared a look with Hunk, and then began to inch forward. Shiro locked his gaze onto her, but didn’t move to stop her as she drew closer to the two of them. She stopped about a foot away, kneeling on the end of the blanket. Shiro watched her, almost warily, but said nothing.

“Keith?” she said cautiously. He turned a little, eyeing her from the side of Shiro’s shoulder. His eyes were red rimmed and watery. “Look, we… we’re not gonna let anybody get you, ok? We’re your friends now, we won’t let anything hurt you.”

Keith just looked at her for a long moment, biting his lip. For a second Pidge thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he whispered, “Thanks Pidge.” 

She gave him the softest smile she could muster. 

After one more shuddering breath, he carefully extracted himself from Shiro, wiping his tears away with his fists. “Sorry I woke you guys up.” he muttered, not looking at them. 

“It’s alright.” Hunk said quickly. “I had night terrors for weeks after the outbreak started.” 

Keith pulled his knees to his chest, looking absolutely miserable. Shiro wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. 

“I’m gonna go do a perimeter check.” Lance said gruffly, pushing himself to his feet and stretching. “Make sure no biters were drawn in by your screaming.”

Keith’s face turned bright red, and there was tense silence as Lance walked off into the brush with his bow. 


	6. The Garrison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finally reach the Garrison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, things are starting to heat up now in the plot department.

It was morning, finally, and Shiro was ready to move. Physically, at least. He had his backpack stocked, his gun loaded and hung securely over his shoulder, his coat on against the chilly desert wind. But mentally, it was a whole different game. He was the one who reassured Keith, he was the one who convinced them to do this in the first place. But now that they were there, on the edge of Galra territory, he was scared. His scars stung. It took all of his mental strength to keep his breathing steady, not to turn tail and run as fast as he could.

He heard footsteps behind him, and then Keith was there, laying his hand on Shiro’s shoulder with a supportive squeeze.

“I’ve got your back.” he murmured softly.

“Thanks.” Shiro responded, peering closely at Keith’s face. He had refused to go back to sleep after his nightmare, and the fatigue showed in the dark circles under his eyes. “There’s still time to back out, if you want.”

Keith shook his head, eyes on the horizon. “No. We’ve come this far.”

“Alright. We’re in it together then.”

“Come on, guys!” Pidge cried, bounding off ahead of them. “We’re almost there!”

She clearly shared none of Shiro or Keith’s fears. Lance and Hunk trailed behind her, their steps also light and bouncy with excitement.

Sharing one last look of trepidation, the two brothers followed.

* * *

 

The sun had set several minutes ago. By all rights they should have stopped by now, but Pidge kept pushing. Just a few more minutes, just another half mile, just a little longer.

“Pidge.” Lance said tiredly after a half an hour of this. “Pidge. I love you. I do. But please. We need to stop for the night.”

“Just a little farther.” Pidge said, not looking back at him.

“Lance is right.” said Shiro, laying a hand on Pidge’s shoulder to stop her movement. “The Garrison isn’t going anywhere, and we’re just going to wear ourselves out if we keep pushing.”

She bit her lip, and for a moment she looked as though she was going to argue, but just then all of them heard a slight rustling in the bushes to their left. All of them froze, going still as statues, listening. The rustle repeated. Slowly, carefully, all of them drew their weapons. But before any of them could really prepare for battle, a shape exploded out of the bushes.

It was Keith, panting and covered in sweat.

“Jesus fuck, Keith!” Lance exclaimed, a little too loudly. “What the hell-”

“Shhhhh!” Keith hissed. He kept his voice down to a bare whisper. “There’s Galra heading straight for us. We all need to hide, now!” Before any of them could argue, he grabbed Shiro’s arm and started hauling him towards the shrubs. “Come _on!_ ”

“Ok, ok.” Shiro murmured in what he hoped was a soothing tone. But behind his mask was a storm of terror. “Everybody get down, and stay quiet.”

Keith and Shiro hunkered down together in a large bush while the others scattered. It was silent and as the seconds ticked by and the moon rose, Keith got more and more tense.

“Keith.” hissed Lance from somewhere nearby. “If this is a trick I swear-”

“Shut up!” he snapped back, just as a pair of voices reached their ears. Two long shadows stretched across the ground before them, and Keith shrunk back into the safety of his hiding place.

“Why do we even bother patrolling this far out?” asked one of the voices, sounding distinctly whiney. “There’s never anything out here but tumbleweeds.”

“Because Lotor says so.” responded the other, deeper voice. Keith couldn’t help flinching violently at the name, and Shiro wrapped a shaking hand around his shoulders. “If I were you, I would quit bitching. Don’t wanna get on his bad side.”

The other sighed. “Whatever. Let's go get the other’s, this place is as good as any for camp.”

“You’re an idiot.” his partner scoffed. “We haven’t checked for firewood or adequate cover or anything.”

“I’m not an idiot. I’m just lazy.”

There were footsteps in the sand, coming closer to their hiding place, and Keith made frantic eye contact with Shiro. He nodded, and shifted his rifle from his shoulder to his hands. It would make a lot of noise, but if they wanted to get away from these two, they didn’t have much of a choice.

“Psst!” Keith’s head snapped around to see Lance across the way, slightly holding up his bow. Shiro nodded to him.

“You know what to do.” he breathed in Keith’s ear. He adjusted his grip on his bat.

They waited for several heart pounding seconds as the voices grew closer, still bickering. Finally, they stepped into their field of vision. They both wore basic jackets and jeans, the only thing distinguishing them as Galra being the purple tattoos emblazoned on their right hands. And the assault rifles slung across their backs.

Keith shifted on his feet, holding his breath, waiting. He could see Lance in his bush, holding his bow sideways and aiming carefully. He took in a breath, held it, and then released the bowstring.

Almost before the sound of the string reached their ears, an arrow sprouted from the forehead of the one farthest from Keith. Both men froze, the other just staring in shock, and then the corpse collapsed to the ground. Keith struck.

Sprinting out from behind the bush, he aimed his bat at the back of the remaining Galra’s head. It connected with a solid _thunk_ , and he dropped to the ground. Instead of following up with his usual bat smash, Keith dropped the wooden weapon and drew his knife. Straddling the man’s chest, he buried the blade into his throat.

The man let out a gurgle as blood poured out around the knife. A red bubble rose and popped when he opened his mouth. His hands came up, pushing desperately at Keith’s shoulders, trying to get a grip on him somewhere. Keith ignored him and pressed the knife into the man harder, gritting his teeth. They struggled for several more tense moments, blood spilling over the sides of the man’s throat, pooling in the dirt and smearing across Keith’s hands. But eventually, finally, his movements slowed, and his hands dropped to his sides.

Keith stood, blood soaking his gloves and the knees of his jeans. He didn’t seem to care, just moving to retrieve his bat.

“C’mon.” he called to the others. “We’ve gotta go before their friends show up.”

Shiro emerged from their hiding place, giving Keith a proud smile.

“Good work.” he praised, patting Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s lip quirked slightly in response, but before he could answer, they were interrupted by the nearby sound of someone retching.  

It was Lance, turned away from them and vomiting into the bushes. Keith felt a little pang of sympathy, remembering his own reaction after his first fight in the arena, but the panic still burning in his gut wouldn’t let him forget. They had to move.

He and Shiro approached the trembling teenager. He had been joined by Hunk, who was rubbing his back soothingly. Pidge reached them just a second later, letting out a quiet, “Oh.” when she realized what the problem was.

Lance’s heaving paused for a moment, his breath deep and shuddering.

“We’ve gotta go, Lance.” Keith said in a trembly voice. After a half second of hesitation, he held out a hand. He hadn’t entirely expected him to take it, but he also hadn’t expected him to violently shove Keith’s hand away and collapse into another bout of gagging.

Keith stared down at his own hand stupidly for a moment, then noticed the blood covering them and flushed, taking a step back and away.

As Keith moved back, Shiro took a step forward, kneeling down on Lance’s other side. His voice was low and calm, the same one he used when Keith was panicking.

“I know.” he was murmuring. Pidge pressed up against Keith’s side. “I know how it feels. But we have to go, before the rest of them come looking, before more blood is shed. I need you to get up. Do you think you can do that?”

There was silence, the only sound the wind in the bushes and Lance’s hard breathing.

“Yeah.” Lance eventually whispered. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Shiro’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled and helped Lance back to his feet. The sniper clutched his bow tightly in one hand and pointedly avoided looking at the bodies. He didn’t attempt to retrieve his arrow.

Hunk wrapped an arm around Lance’s shoulders, also not looking at the carnage as he led his friend back onto their course. But Pidge’s eyes were wide, and Keith could feel her trembling next to him. His stomach twisted and he almost reached out to her before he remembered the blood on his hands and clenched his fists. The flush from winning combat was gone, replaced by the usual guilt and shame. He didn’t want her to see what he did.

Before he could do anything stupid, like say something, he pushed back ahead in front of the others. He kept a sharp eye out for any more Galra, and his thumb rubbed over his red knuckles.

Over and over and over.

* * *

 

After that it was Keith pushing, not wanting to get jumped while they rested. Shiro was just as on edge, and they ended up going all night long. By the time the sun rose, they were all exhausted and dragging their feet, but they kept moving, pressing towards the metal walls that sparkled on the horizon.

Lance had been right. The Garrison was still running and it had adapted well to its new circumstances. Tall metal walls replaced what had once been chain link fences, with heavily armed men patrolling the tops. From what they could make out from still a bit away, there were even loudspeakers hooked up there as well.

“Why would they have loudspeakers?” Hunk questioned when Lance pointed it out to them. “Noise will just attract biters.”

“I think it’s so they can talk to people outside without risking opening the gates.” Shiro answered. “Probably a good idea, being in Galra territory and all.”

“What’s so bad about the Galra?” Lance asked, oblivious as usual to the tension that tightened Shiro’s shoulders. “You guys keep saying that they’re bad, but you never say what they do that makes you so afraid of them.”

“You don’t want to know.” Shiro tried not to snap, but his voice came out a little angry anyway, and Lance dropped the subject.

Keith fell back to the group. His shoulders were slumped and the bags under his eyes looked like bruises on his pale skin, but his eyes were still alert and his grip on his bat solid.

“They look really well defended.” He reported as they drew ever closer. “I’m honestly not surprised the Galra haven’t been able to take them down yet.”

Pidge chewed on her lip until it stung. It had been more than a year since she had seen her brother, and after all of this, after losing her parents and coming all this way, she didn’t think she could take it if he wasn’t here.

 _Please be here, Matt. Please_.

As if he could read her mind, Keith dropped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. The blood on his hands had dried by now, and it rubbed off on her shirt in little brown specks, but Pidge didn’t mind. The touch calmed her a little, soothed the trembling in her hands. She took a deep breath and held it. Everything would be alright, she just had to have hope.

By the time they got within shouting distance of the walls, they were all ready to drop with exhaustion. But their bedraggled appearance didn’t stop the guards from leveling their guns down at the small group twenty feet below them.

“Stop!” the one closest to them yelled. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“Just a group of survivors.” Shiro called back, raising his hands in the universal _please don’t shoot me_ gesture. “Looking for a safe haven.”

The man stood there for a moment longer with his gun trained on them, clearly looking them over. Then, without lowering the barrel of his weapon, put two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle.

With a loud groan, the gates of the metal walls began to swing outward. Pidge jumped at the noise, all of her nerves frayed, and instinctively reached out to grab onto something. That something just so happened to be Keith’s wrist. He didn’t start or push her away, he just gave her shoulder another squeeze.

The gates opened until there was a ten foot gap between them, and then the guards that had been pushing them appeared. Both of them were also heavily armed. One of them jerked the barrel of his gun roughly at Shiro, indicating they should enter. So Shiro went and the others followed.

Keith knew he should have felt better within the walls, away from the Galra, but the expected relief didn’t come. In fact, when the metal gates were pulled shut behind them with a great clang, he felt a chill go up his spine, and he clutched at Pidge’s shoulder just a little tighter.

Inside there was another set of gates, this time made of chain link fences. Two more guards stood there, weapons at the ready.

“Do you usually greet tired survivors like this?” Hunk asked, maybe a little aggressively. The guard who had guided them in gave him a sharp look.

“Only well armed ones.” he barked gruffly. “Leave all of your weapons and supplies here.”

“Why?” asked Lance, angling his body so that his sniper rifle was shielded from the soldier.

“Just a precaution. You’ll get them back after you talk to Iverson.”

Shiro resisted the scoff that rose in his throat. Of course, out of all the people who could have survived, out of all the officers to take over the Garrison, it would have been Iverson. The one he had never seen eye to eye on. This would be fun.

All eyes turned to Shiro, and he nodded to them, trying to look reassuring. Slowly, they began to drop their backpacks and their weapons. Lance glared at one of the soldiers who had been eyeing his rifle, and secured it carefully under the pile of backpacks. Keith considered leaving the knife tucked in his waistband, but Shiro gave him a subtle shake of the head, and he took it out. He knew how he must look to the soldiers, pulling weapons out of hidden places and covered in blood. He tried in vain to scrape the brown off of his hands with his fingernails, but most of it wouldn’t give.

Once they had all been stripped of their supplies and weapons, the guards finally opened the inner gates and led them inside the Garrison.

Shiro almost didn’t recognize it. Entirely new structures had been assembled, covering the once open interior yard. Dirt paths ran through the haphazard metal buildings and there were people everywhere. Not just soldiers, either. There were civilians, and even children playing in the dust as armed men marched by.

Keith felt utterly exposed without his weapons, and the sudden amount of people and noise pressing in on him were absolutely not helping. Pidge had clenched her shaking hands into fists, trying to shove the butterflies down as she subtly looked around for Matt. By contrast, Hunk and Lance looked almost giddy as they surveyed the thriving population.

“Look, Hunk, they have _electricity_.” Lance babbled, pointing excitedly at the string of lightbulbs stretched across the path over their heads. The town seemed to be built in some sort of system of concentric rings, and they were being led towards the center, towards the buildings that used to be the Garrison.

“I wonder if they have running water, too.” Hunk said, hungrily eyeing some roasting meat as they passed what looked like a bar.

“Man, I would _kill_  for a shower.” Lance responded wistfully. “And some new clothes. This shirt is on it’s last threads.”

“I can’t believe we made it.” Hunk looked a little embarrassed at his confession, always having been the optimistic one, but now that they were here he didn’t mind airing his doubts. “I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up back in the desert.”

“Thing’s will be better now. Pidge will find Matt, and we’ll finally get to shower and have some actual food, and we can sleep in actual beds, and everything will be fine.” Lance’s eyes were absolutely shining at the thoughts running through his head. “No more taking turns on watch, no more fighting muertos, and hopefully,” here he paused and cast a glance behind him, where Keith and Pidge were following them as rigidly as statues, “No more Keith.”

If Keith heard him he made no indication. His gaze was locked on Shiro’s back, waiting for the slightest signal that something was wrong. But although Shiro was clearly tense, that signal never came, and they reached the buildings without incident.

Yet another pair of soldiers granted them access, and the first two led them into a concrete lobby. Shiro vaguely recognized the room, but it was much grungier now, missing all of the old furniture and lit only by a single light bulb. The door slammed shut behind them, and Keith jumped, visibly uncomfortable. One of the soldiers gave him a narrowed eyed look, then turned to Shiro.

“Wait here.” he instructed briskly. Then he turned and walked through the door on the opposite wall, presumably to tell Iverson about them, leaving one of the guards with him.

Keith rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. This room was too small, too cramped. No windows, not enough light, not enough air. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. He couldn’t freak out, not now. He could get them in trouble, and Pidge might never find her brother. He had to keep his shit together, for her sake. Slowly, he let the breath out.

Shiro noticed what he was doing and felt bad that he was stuck in this situation, but he really couldn’t do anything about it. He was pondering whether or not he should say anything to him in front of the others, when the door opened again, and Iverson stepped through.

He had changed since Shiro had last seen him. He was still tall and broad shouldered, the same imposing dark skinned man, but he was thinner, and he kept one eye squeezed shut at all times. A wicked scar ran through his left eyebrow, and he no longer wore his officers uniform. Instead, he wore what everyone else wore: whatever they could find.

It took him a moment, but when he recognized Shiro, his one eye widened.

“Shirogane!” He bellowed, and Shiro barely kept from wincing visibly. The apocalypse had done nothing to quiet his voice. “I should’ve known you would still be alive.”

“I’ve tried my best, sir.” Shiro replied quietly.

“What brings you to the Garrison, soldier? We’re a bit cramped in terms of living space at the moment, but-”

“Actually,” interrupted Pidge, shouldering her way to the front. Iverson glared down at her menacingly, but she gritted her teeth and paid it no mind. She couldn’t wait any longer. “We’re looking for someone. My brother, he used to work here. His name’s Matt Holt.”

Iverson’s eye widened again, and his face changed from his usual scowl to something that might have resembled sympathy if you looked at it from the right angle.

“You must be that little sister he was always talking about.” Pidge nodded eagerly. “Terrible thing, that. Very unfortunate.”

“What?” Pidge squeaked. “What do you mean? Did something happen to my brother? Is he alive?!”

Shiro laid a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her, but she just brushed it off and took a step closer to Iverson. Desperation sang in her blood and in her eyes.

“Please. You have to tell me. Where’s Matt? Where’s my brother?”

Iverson sighed and shook his head. “He wandered outside the perimeter.” he said, voice no quieter than it had been before. “Got grabbed by Galra.”

Shiro and Keith went about ten shades paler, while Hunk’s jaw dropped and Lance looked stricken. But Pidge didn’t wait for it to hurt, didn’t wait for the shock.

“When?” she asked, voice cracking.

“About a month and a half ago.”

“Do you know where he is, do you have any leads? How close are you to rescuing him?” Pidge was practically on top of Iverson now, craning her head back to look up at him. Only pure willpower was holding back the tears that trembled in the corners of her eyes.

Iverson’s shoulders straightened, previous sympathy forgotten. “The Garrison doesn’t run rescue missions.” he said tightly, imperiously. “It’s too great a risk, and frankly a waste of resources. We protect the ones we have here. He was stupid enough to leave the perimeter, and now there’s nothing we can do about it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, the group just staring at the commander in shock. The other soldiers were studying their shoes with great interest, almost looking ashamed, but neither of them said anything.

“What?” hissed Shiro eventually, in disbelief. Hunk reached out a trembling hand to Pidge, murmuring her name, but she didn’t look at him. She just stood, stock-still, staring at Iverson with huge, blank eyes.

And then she snapped.

“Coward!” she shrieked. Keith recognized the signs, and barely pushed forward in time to stop her from launching herself at Iverson. “Coward! You fucking spineless piece of shit!”

The soldiers stepped forward, guns at the ready, but Keith had her pinned securely, arms around her waist. She kicked and scratched, but Keith didn’t budge. “How could you leave him? How could you abandon him like this?” Her voice cracked, and tears poured down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop screaming. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill every last one of you! You can’t just fucking-”

Keith began backing towards the door, putting space between Pidge and Iverson. She kicked harder, and Keith winced at the bruises that would definitely be decorating his shins later, but didn’t let her go.

Hunk made to follow them, until Keith shook his head at him.

“Don’t.” he barked out. “I’ll handle it. You guys stay here and talk to Iverson.”

Before anyone could argue with him, his back hit the door, and he was outside again. The soldiers and people on the street gave him strange looks, but no one moved to stop him, and he pulled Pidge off to the side, into a shadowy alcove against the building.

“Let me go, Keith!” she spat, slamming a fist against his chest. “Let me go! I have to- I can’t-”

“I know.” Keith said, cutting her off. His voice was flat and blunt, like a hammer thudding against her tears. “You’re angry. And you’re scared.”

“I’m gonna kill him.” The tears were coming harder now, thickening her voice. “I’m gonna-”

“Hit me.”

Pidge stopped dead, startled into silence. Keith’s face was impassive, giving her no clue if he was serious or not. “What?”

“You’re angry, I can take it. So hit me.”

At any other time Pidge would have argued. Said that was stupid, that she didn’t want to hurt anybody. But this wasn’t any other time. This was now. And Pidge desperately wanted to hurt something, anything.

So she did it. She probably shouldn’t have, but she did. She balled her hands into fists and slammed them against Keith’s chest as hard as she could. He swayed back a little on his heels, but he didn’t make a sound, and didn’t flinch when Pidge hit him again. And again. And again. Tears fell freely from her face, and every so often she would make a choking sound. But she kept going, forcing bruises onto Keith’s skin, scattering them over his chest and his arms. She hit him until her arms shook. She hit him until her knuckles were red and torn. She hit him until she couldn’t take it anymore. And then she collapsed against the bruises she had just made and sobbed until her lungs burned with every breath.

Keith sat there patiently through it all, taking the hits without a single complaint, and running his fingers through her hair while she cried. He was probably getting dried blood in it, but she didn’t care. Right now, she could almost imagine it was her big brother, comforting her after she skinned her knee.

“I have to find him.” she gasped, finally beginning to run out of tears. “I have to find my brother.”

“I know. I’m going to help you.”

She sniffled and pulled back, looking at his face for the first time since this started. It didn’t look any different. “Really?”

He nodded solemnly. “I know what it’s like to be a prisoner of the Galra.” he said, his voice barely covering the ocean of rage swirling in his eyes. “I’m not going to let your brother suffer like that.”

Pidge felt a little cold at the word suffer, but she also felt a little warm, too. She didn’t have to do this alone. The Garrison might have abandoned Matt, but at least she and Keith hadn’t.

“Shiro will help too. Matt was his best friend, I know he’ll want to get him out.”

Pidge nodded, feeling a little numb now that her crying session was coming to an end.

“Feeling better?” She nodded again and finally pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes.

“I’m-”

“Don’t say sorry.”

* * *

 

“You guys don’t have to come.”

The group was together once again, standing just inside the exterior gates of the Garrison. They had all retrieved their gear and now Pidge was standing in front of Lance and Hunk, staring down at her feet.

“I know this has been hard, and you guys have given a lot to get me here. If you want to stay, if you want to be safe, you don’t have to come. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Pidge, what the fuck are you _talking_ about?” Lance asked, his voice cold enough that Pidge looked up in confusion. “Of _course_ we’re coming with you.”

Pidge blinked. “But… you guys were so excited about this place earlier…”

“We’re in this together.” Hunk said firmly, with a kind smile. “We’re a team. And we’re not going to let you look for your brother by yourself.”

Pidge’s lower lip trembled, and Lance jumped in, probably trying to prevent another tear-fest.

“Besides, I don’t want to live somewhere where they don’t care enough to look for me if I disappear.” he said it nonchalantly, as though it wasn’t a big deal. “Seems like a pretty shit place, if you ask me.” One of the guards that was still watching shot him a dirty look, but Lance ignored him.

Pidge threw herself forward, clinging to Lance’s waist like a koala. She managed to keep her tears in, but just barely.

“Thank you guys.” she mumbled into Lance’s shirt. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem, Pigeon.” Lance said with a gentle smile, ruffling her hair. She pulled away a moment later. She was wiping her cheeks, but her smile was radiant. “Now let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

As the guards pushed the gates open, Shiro cast one last look over his shoulder. From one of the balconies, Iverson was glaring down at them.

_“Are you sure?” he had asked Shiro. “We could use a good soldier like you.”_

_“I’m not a good soldier.” Shiro had snapped back, dropping all pretense of respect. “I know what the Galra do to people, and I’m not letting it go on any longer.”_

Shiro gave him a cold stare in return, and then turned away and led his little ragtag team back out into the desert.


	7. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance come to an understanding, and the team takes the first step to finding Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves... angst is coming.

They camped within the Garrison’s perimeter that night. Well, technically they made camp at noon, and then all promptly crashed. They didn’t even bother with watch, they were all so exhausted. For once, neither Keith or Shiro dreamed. 

They all awoke at some point in the night, when the moon was directly above their heads. Most of them were still tired, but they were also hungry and cold, so they reluctantly built a campfire and made dinner.

It was quiet, all of them too tired to carry on a conversation. That is, until Pidge spoke up.

“Hey, Keith?” Her voice was soft, and she had her chin resting on her drawn up knees as she stared unseeing into the campfire.

“Yeah?”

“You… you said you knew what is was like to be a prisoner of the Galra.” Keith’s skin prickled as everyone’s eyes turned to him, including Pidge’s. “What are they gonna do to my brother?”

Keith’s expression was pained. It was so tempting just to say ‘You don’t want to know’ and leave it at that, not have to deal with the pain that came with the remembering. But Pidge deserved more than that. Pidge deserved the truth.

“Pidge…” Shiro began, about to tell her no, until Keith cut him off.

“It’s ok, Shiro. We should tell them.”

Shiro turned and gave him a surprised look, but Keith kept his eyes on the toes of his boots. 

“If we’re going to be doing this,” he continued, “Going after the Galra, they deserve to know why.” He shrugged stiffly. “There’s no point in avoiding it any more.”

“Are you sure?” his brother asked in a gentle voice, and Keith nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah just… do you mind telling them alone? I should do a perimeter check.”

“I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

Pidge felt a little guilty, watching Keith get to his feet and grab his bat. She knew it was a bad topic, she knew both of them were still screwed up because of whatever had happened to them, but she couldn’t stand not knowing. She wanted to know what she was up against, wanted to know the chances of Matt still being alive. She wanted reality, not false hope.

Shiro waited, saying nothing until Keith was safely out of earshot. Then he turned back towards the fire with a sigh. Hunk looked a little nervous, clearly not jazzed about hearing how bad the Galra were. Lance was cleaning his rifle again, trying not to look too interested, but his eyes were gleaming.

“The first thing you should know about the Galra is that they’re ruthless.” Shiro began. Every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might break. His eyes were haunted, but he didn’t stop speaking.

“They’re ruthless and bloodthirsty. They like the world how it is now, completely destroyed, where the strong prey on the weak. Because they’re the strong ones, and they get off on cruelty.”

Pidge bit into her lip, cold coiling into her gut. Lance’s rag had stopped moving, his attention now completely fixed on Shiro. 

“It was maybe three months after the outbreak when Keith and I wandered into their territory. We didn’t know it was theirs, we were just trying to survive. But of course they didn’t see it that way when they stumbled across us, and they took us prisoner. 

“They have a lot of people in their ranks, spread all over the desert in these big camps. And obviously, they get bored. So for entertainment, they have a kind of… I guess you could call it an arena.”

“An arena?” Pidge raised an eyebrow, interrupting for the first time. Shiro nodded gravely.

“Like a… a gladiator arena, I guess.” 

“Oh.” 

“They would pit prisoners against each other. It was either kill, or be killed. And when they threw me and Keith in…” he shrugged a little helplessly, looking down at the dirt. “We did what we had to do to stay alive.”

“You fought.” This time it was Lance who spoke, all pretense of not listening gone. Shiro nodded again. 

“We fought. They had us fighting separately, so after the first night, we didn’t see each other for weeks. But we did well. Really well. Eventually we ended up with nicknames. They called me the Champion, and they called Keith the Red Lion.” he paused and shivered, and Pidge had to resist the urge to hug him before he was done. 

“One night their leader was going to visit the camp we were at. A guy named Zarkon.”

“That’s a weird name.” Hunk said without thinking, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. Shiro gave a rueful smile. 

“When they join, they pick new names for themselves. They all sound like that.” The smile slid off of his face. “They wanted to impress their leader, put on a good show. And they figured, what could be better than putting their two best fighters against each other.”

“You and Keith.” Pidge’s voice was a whisper, but Shiro heard. 

“Me and Keith. They gave us both a weapon and stuck us in the ring, just like every time before that. But when we saw who we were supposed to be fighting, we both refused. No matter what they did or what they threatened us with, we wouldn’t fight each other.” His lip quirked, almost into a proud smirk.

“Man, Zarkon must have been pissed.” said Hunk, scootching a little closer to the fire. 

“Yeah, he was.” Shiro rubbed his eyes, looking tired, but he didn’t stop the story. “He handed us off to his second in command, Lotor. To be punished.”

The other three simultaneously shivered, and Pidge edged closer to the flames, fear leaking down her spine like ice water. 

“How long?” she heard herself ask. 

“I honestly don’t know.” Shiro answered, shaking his head. “I have no idea how long we were there for. It felt like forever.”

“What did he…” That question came from Lance, who was looking and feeling a little green. Shiro responded without looking at him.

“With me, it was physical. Broken bones, hot knives, that sort of thing.” He didn’t seem to notice when Pidge flinched or Hunk looked away with a hand over his mouth. “But he didn’t do that with Keith. He messed with his head instead. That’s what the whole song deal was about. Sometimes Lotor would blindfold him, tie him up somewhere, and play that song on repeat while he beat me and made Keith listen.” 

Shiro’s shoulders shook, and he folded in on himself a little. He was pale, and tired, and clearly didn’t want to talk about this anymore. But he pushed himself for the last sentence.

“Eventually, we made it out.”

There was a long, long pause. Pidge stared into the fire, willing the tears not to spill. That hadn’t helped her fears about Matt, not in the least, but she had asked. Hunk still had a hand over his mouth, breathing deeply, trying not to vomit. And Lance…

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lance murmured, staring desolately off in the direction Keith had left in. “I am such a  _ dick _ .” Before any of the others could say anything, he was scrambling to his feet and heading off into the darkness.

* * *

 

It took him a few minutes of stumbling around in the dark, but eventually he found Keith sitting cross legged on a large rock, spinning his dagger in his hands. His head rose at the sound of footsteps, eyes widening when he recognized who it was.

“Lance?”

“H-hey.” He had stopped a few feet away, and now just stood there awkwardly. When he left he hadn’t thought about what he was going to say to Keith, he only knew that he had to say  _ something _ . 

“I’m sorry.” he blurted out, and then scrambled to elaborate when Keith’s eyes widened. “I mean, for how I’ve been acting, and for pushing you about the song, and accusing you of attacking Pidge, and all of that. I’m sorry.”

Keith’s mouth twisted. He was expressing some kind of emotion, but Lance couldn’t decipher it. “It’s o-”

“Don’t say it’s ok!” Lance exclaimed, taking a step forward. Keith automatically leaned back, knife coming up, and Lance stopped with a stricken look.

“I just…” he started, and then trailed off. “It’s not ok, so don’t say it is. I know it’s not.”

Keith slowly lowered his knife, and if it hadn’t been so dark, Lance might’ve been able to see him shaking. 

“You didn’t know.” Keith mumbled, looking away and silently berating himself for raising his weapon at Lance.

“That’s not an excuse.” 

Keith huffed and shot Lance an annoyed look through his bangs. “Do you wanna be forgiven or are you hellbent on being difficult?”

“You don’t have to forgive me.” Lance said, allowing himself to sit down near Keith. “I don’t really deserve it.”

“That’s up to me to decide, not you.” Keith responded, sheathing his knife. “And I forgive you.”

Lance couldn’t resist the smile that crept onto his face. “Everything’s always a competition, isn’t it Mullet?”

“And who’s fault is that?” Lance could practically hear the eyeroll that accompanied the teasing statement, and he bumped Keith’s knee with his fist. The other boy seemed content to let the conversation stop there, but Lance wasn’t.

“I was missing my brother.” he admitted quietly, and Keith stilled. “And I was jealous that you still had Shiro. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“What was his name? Your brother?”

“Javi.” His smile turned sad at the memories. “He would be eleven now.” 

“What was he like?”

“Happy. He was always smiling, except when he couldn’t find his stuffed monkey. He loved that thing.”

Keith made a little humming noise of understanding. Lance could feel his chest tightening up. He didn’t want to think about his brother anymore.

“You mind if I ask you a question?”

There’s a pause, as though Keith can tell what he’s going to ask, but then he sighs.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did they call you that?”

Keith knows what he means. To Lance’s surprise, he slides off of his rock to sit next to him. He won’t let their eyes meet, but that’s ok. He understands.

“Because I was vicious.” Keith said, nearly whispering. “They called Shiro the Champion because he was always so calm, and controlled. He never lost. And he always tried to be merciful, even if the Galra wouldn’t let him. But I wasn’t like that.” he pulled his knees to his chest in his typical closed off position. 

“I was messy, and vicious, and I took way more hits than I should have. By the end of every fight I was usually covered in blood.”

“Theirs or yours?” Lance asked softly. Keith turned his head away. 

“Both.” He looked down at his knees, at the brown stains on his jeans, and in the dim light of the moon Lance could see him biting his lip. His voice got even softer.

“I tore people apart, Lance. I lost track of how many people I killed in that arena.” He made a small choking noise in the back of his throat, but he didn’t stop talking. 

“You wanna know why I forgave you so easily? Because you’re not the one who needs to be forgiven.” 

Lance didn’t know what to say to that. The first thing that popped into his mind was to say that it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t had a choice. But if it had been him, that wouldn’t have made him feel better at all. 

“Let’s head back to the others.” he said instead, standing and offering a hand to Keith. “Shiro was looking a little worse for wear when I left.”

Keith let Lance help him up, but he felt a pang of guilt for making Shiro relive all of that alone. Lately it seemed as though he couldn’t go five minutes without fucking something up. 

Lance didn’t ask any more questions, and so the walk back to camp was quiet except for the crunch of their boots on the ground. When they arrived, Pidge and Hunk were wrapped tightly in their blankets, laying next to the fire. But their eyes were still open. Pidge stared into the fire, and Hunk at the stars, and neither of them moved when the two boys approached. 

Shiro, still sitting by the fire, looked up. A grateful smile appeared when he saw Keith, but that didn’t hide his pale skin or the look in his eyes. Keith sat down next to him, tucking his hands into the pockets of his red hoodie while Lance busied himself with going back to bed. He ended up turned away from them, with his back to the fire. As soon as he did, Shiro dropped his head onto Keith’s shoulder.

Keith leaned his cheek against Shiro’s hair and took a deep breath. Compared to him, Shiro was a walk in the park to comfort. He didn’t like being held or reassured. He just wanted to feel someone next to him, to know he wasn’t alone while he calmed himself down in his own head. And Keith could give him that, easily. If he could give nothing else, he could give him that.

* * *

 

The next morning came sooner than any of them wanted. But, as most people know, the sun is fairly bright and difficult to ignore. So they all reluctantly awoke and the group began to plan their next move.

“I talked to one of the soldiers at the Garrison yesterday.” said Shiro as he spread their map out on the ground in front of them. “He said there’s a fairly large Galra camp about twenty miles west of here. If Matt isn’t there, they should at least have some information about where he is.”

“How are we gonna get in?” Hunk asked, eyeing the map nervously.

“We’ll worry about that when we get closer and can see what we’re up against.” was Shiro’s decidedly not reassuring answer. 

“Yeah, right, ok, totally.” Hunk was clearly not down with this plan, but they didn’t really have anything better. So the team packed up their camp and started moving west.

Keith was on the reddest of red alerts, making a slow loop around the group as they pressed forward, constantly keeping an eye out for Galra scouts. 

_ Just keep going,  _ he told himself, thumb rubbing over his knuckles.  _ Keep looking, don’t drop your guard. As long as you keep looking, nothing will happen. Everything will be fine _ .

On his fifth pass, Shiro finally called out to him.

“Keith! Come on, reel it in.”

Keith reluctantly returned to the group, feeling his stomach tighten as he did so. If he wasn’t up there scouting, the Galra could swoop down on them at any moment, surprise them from any angle. It wasn’t safe to travel in a bunch like this, they were going to get caught, they-

“Hey.” Lance lightly nudged his side, and Keith snapped back to reality with a flushed face. “You alright there, Mullet?”

“Yeah.” Keith murmured in reply, ignoring the look Shiro shot his way. “I’m just worried. About Galra. I should be out there scouting.”

“You’re not going to do us any good if you wear yourself out.” Shiro said and Keith frowned. 

“I know. But it would be stupid to go waltzing through Galra territory without keeping our guard up.”

“We  _ do  _ have our guard up.” Pidge replied, giving him a bit of a chagrined smile. “Have a little faith.”

Keith dug his teeth into the inside of his lip and said nothing. If any of them noticed his grip tightening on his bat, they didn’t mention it. He walked with the group for about half an hour, and then he went back to scouting, and Shiro let him go.

* * *

 

The camp was situated in a small valley, where the numerous ramshackle buildings would be protected from the wind. From what they could see perched on the nearby ridge, there was about thirty dwellings, arranged in a crowd around a center meeting point. The entire thing was circled by a rusted chain link fence, which had only one very well guarded gate. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna be able to get through there.” Hunk said nervously, biting on his thumb nail. 

“Could we climb the fence?” asked Keith. Shiro shook his head with a wry look.

“It would make too much noise.”

“Unless we make a distraction.”

“Keith, we don’t have anything to build explosives.” Lance cut in. For him, going from icy silence to playful banter was like flipping a switch. For Keith, it was a little more difficult. 

“I never said it had to explode!” He responded defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “It just has to be distracting!”

“Hmmm, I might have an idea.” Pidge murmured, drawing the rest of their eyes to her. Her face was serious, a small wrinkle between her brow as she thought. “But it’ll be really dangerous.”

“This whole mission is dangerous.” Shiro said in a firm tone. “Whatever your idea is, tell us.”

“Well,” she paused and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I was thinking we could put Lance somewhere a decent distance away and have him snipe a few guys to call attention and cause a panic. We leave Hunk with him just in case they figure out where he is, and then the rest of us sneak over the fence from the back.”

Shiro pondered for a moment. “Hm, that could work. That is, if Lance is ok with it?”

“Hell yes!” Lance exclaimed. “My trigger finger has been itching for  _ weeks _ .”

“Are you sure?” Pidge asked, doubt in her voice. “You threw up last time you killed someone.”

Lance’s smile dimmed a little bit, but he didn’t lose his confidence. “That was close range, with an arrow. Totally different.”

“If you say so.” she didn’t sound at all convinced, but she wasn’t about to argue. It was the best plan they had, and she  _ had  _ to find Matt. 

“Sounds like a plan.” said Shiro, calm and collected as always. “We’ll wait till dark.”

* * *

 

Lance waited until sunset before approaching Keith. They had hidden their gear a fair distance back from the ridge, planning on getting as far away as they could after they pulled off their heist. All of them were doing different things to help stave off the nerves, and Keith happened to be hacking at a tree with his dagger. 

“You’re going to dull the blade.” Lance called, giving Keith advanced warning of his approach. 

“I can sharpen it again.” Keith retorted, turning away from the shredded bark to face Lance fully. He was panting, and he wiped some sweat off of his forehead. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, I guess I had another question. If that’s ok.” Lance was almost bashful, dragging the toe of his shoe through the dirt. He had been expecting a blunt no, or a harsh swear, or maybe silence; but he didn’t get any of that. 

“Ok, go ahead.” Lance’s eyes darted up to meet Keith’s. He looked a little solemn, but not upset or on the edge of a breakdown, so he figured it was safe to proceed. He took a deep breath, trying to release the anxiety that had built up in his shoulder blades. 

“Does it get easier?” he asked, his voice coming out quieter and more uncertain than he had intended. He caught Keith’s confused look and quickly elaborated. “The killing. Does it get easier?”

His face did something complicated. He had been expecting a question like this, though the answer to this one was infinitely difficult to answer. 

“It depends.” he said, licking his lips anxiously. “On who it is. It never got easier in the arena.”

“Was it easy killing that Galra?” 

“Yes.” Keith’s answer was automatic, but his eyes darkened after he said it. “Probably too easy.” 

Lance looked back at the ground, watching the wind sift through the individual grains. Despite his earlier excitement, his stomach was all twisted up in knots at the thought of the task ahead. 

Keith noticed. “You don’t have to do this.” he murmured. His fingers twitched, and it was only then Lance realized he was still holding his knife, the blade catching the last of the sun's rays as it disappeared behind the horizon. 

“Yes I do.” he huffed in answer. “I’ve been helping Pidge look for Matt for a year, I can’t just back out now.”

“We can come up with a different plan. You don’t have to kill people if you don’t-”

“It’s the apocalypse, Keith.” Despite the slight softening of his eyes, his tone was firm when he interrupted Keith. “Shit’s gonna happen.”

Keith’s expression was half hopeless, half frustrated, but he just shook his head and muttered, “Alright. We should go find the others, it’s almost time.”

Lance gave him a small, brittle smile, and the two of them returned to the group to put their plan into action.

* * *

The dark desert was quiet and still, the wind bearing the sound of low chatter and the crackling of a campfire towards the three silent watchers hidden in the shadows beyond the camp. Pidge, Keith, and Shiro huddled once again in a nearby bush, waiting with white knuckled holds on their weapons. At any moment now, Lance would kick their plan into gear, and they had to be ready to move.

Keith’s muscles were coiled up like a spring and beside him he could feel the tension radiating off of Pidge. Under the cover of darkness she had set up a few simple traps around the camp, which would hopefully slow the Galra pursuit when they made their escape. Despite this precaution, they were all sweating with apprehension. This plan was foolhardy, immensely foolhardy, but they had made their decision and there was nothing to be done about it now.

All three of them jolted when the loud bang came echoing up the valley towards the camp. All of the previous chatter they had been hearing died down, and for a moment there was only the wind and the snap-crackle-pop of the fire. Then there was a cry, a voice raising the alarm, and the camp exploded into shouts and thundering feet. 

“Now!” Shiro hissed, and the three of them darted out from their hiding spot, making for the chainlink fence. In the flickering light of the fire, Keith could make out the retreating backs of the Galra men as they rushed towards the source of the commotion.

The slight tinkling of the fence as they climbed was nothing compared to the noise the Galra were making, and the trio were inside and scurrying into the shadow of a building without issue.

“Alright, where now?” Keith whispered, and Pidge pointed towards where the large campfire was burning.

“The largest building is at the center, near the fire.” she murmured. “That’s most likely where we’ll find any prisoners or records they might have.”

“Split up.” Shiro ordered. “Everyone take a different direction. Keep quiet and stay in the shadows. We’ll meet there.” 

Keith and Pidge gave him terse nods, and then they were off.

Keith’s heart pounded in his ears as he slunk from shadow to shadow, holding his knife close. He had left his bat behind, too unwieldy to sneak with, as well as his pistol. This was as good as it got. 

He traversed the trampled earth that passed for roads quickly, and caught sight of the Galra’s giant bonfire within a few minutes of splitting up from his companions. As promised, a comparably large metal building rose up from the opposite side of the square. There was a door and a couple of windows cut into the wall facing him, the borders decorated savagely with barbed wire. There wasn’t an actual door as far as he could see, and the interior of the building was disconcertingly dark. But on the right, just for a moment, he caught the telltale flash of flames reflecting off of glasses. 

Another crack echoed through the valley, and Keith felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when the Galra commotion picked up in response. As quickly and carefully as he could, he scurried across the square, past the fire and back into the shadows.

Pidge was waiting for him next to the building. She looked even more worried than he felt, repeatedly licking her lips and casting glances over her shoulder. Thankfully, they only had to wait another few moments before Shiro melted out of the shadow of a nearby building and joined them. Together, watching each other’s backs, they crept into the dark structure.

Inside was dimly lit in the corners by a few electric lanterns, but other than that it was pitch black. In the back right was a rickety ladder that led up to a second floor made from thin scavenged aluminum, which Keith eyed with distrust. God only knows how full grown men managed to walk around up there without falling right through.

Shiro seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Pidge.” he hissed. “Go look around upstairs. Keith and I will sweep down here.”

Pidge nodded and immediately headed for the ladder, leaving Keith and Shiro on the first floor. From what he could see, this whole room was dedicated to weaponry, with various tables staggering across the room, laden down with guns and bows and clubs and everything inbetween. Snipped bits of wire and chunks of lead littered the floor, and the two of them had to step carefully to avoid making a sound as they searched for anything helpful.

Lance’s rifle sounded once again, slightly muffled from inside, and Keith’s fingers felt slightly cold where they wrapped around the hilt of his dagger. It wouldn’t be too much longer before the Galra figured out where Lance was positioned and went after him. They had to find something and get out before that happened, or he and Hunk were screwed. 

Pidge hopped back down the ladder, frustration now etched into her face as well as worry. 

“There’s nothing up there.” she muttered, barely keeping her voice down. “We don’t have time to check another building!”

Shiro started to say something, but just then they heard the crunch of boots in the dirt right outside, and they barely scattered into the shadows before the person was marching inside. Predictably, it was a man, thin and wiry with a leathery mean face. He made a beeline for one of the weapon benches, stomping right past Keith as he did so. He watched him with bated breath, and then met Shiro’s eyes across the way. 

He had just had an idea.

He didn’t wait to think about it, or for confirmation from Shiro. He had an opportunity, he was going to take it, and he was going to do it  _ now _ . He took a step forward, saw Shiro’s eyes widen, and then he turned and pounced.

The man’s fingers had just brushed against the cold steel of a gun lying on one of the benches when Keith’s elbow hooked around his neck and yanked him backwards. He stumbled, beginning to let out a startled cry, but it died in his throat when Keith’s knife poised itself over his jugular. 

“Make a sound,” Keith hissed into his ear, “and you’re dead.” 

The man obediently kept his mouth shut.

“Keith!” The man’s eye twitched when Shiro and Pidge appeared as well, clearly surprised by the number of intruders. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting us information.” Keith snapped back. “Now let’s go, before they figure out where Lance is.”

Shiro’s fists clenched at his sides.  _ Why can’t he ever stick to the plan?  _

The rifle cracked for the fourth time, and with a sinking stomach Shiro realized that he didn’t have time to argue with his brother. He just had to run with it, so he quickly found a decent length of wire on the floor and used it to bind their prisoners hands. With Pidge trailing behind them, Shiro forced the man out of the building in front of him. 

At first, the man tried to trip them up, making noise and dragging his feet. But after a few stilted minutes of trying to get back to the fence, Keith lost his patience and gave the man a warning cut across the neck. It was barely an inch long and not terribly deep, but the sting seemed to scare the man enough for him to co-operate.

The Galra were beginning to return to their houses, seeking out weapons and shouting about tracking down whoever was shooting them. But thankfully, as before, their clamor disguised the clanging of the fence as the three of them forced their prisoner over it. 

_ We’re out _ , Keith thought, allowing himself a small breath of relief.  _ Now we just need to get back to Lance and Hunk. _

“Move.” Shiro barked, giving their hostage a rough shove. Angry hazel eyes flashed back at him, but he obeyed when he saw Keith’s warning expression. 

“Shiro,” Pidge murmured as they crept through the desert as quickly as they dared. “Are you sure about this?”

Shiro didn’t answer, but the clench of his jaw told Keith all he needed to know. He wasn’t sure about this, he wasn’t happy with Keith going off the plan, and he was definitely going to be having a discussion with him later. But with no other leads on Matt, Keith didn’t think they had much of a choice. 

God was on their side that night it seemed, because not only did they make it out in one piece, but both Lance and Hunk were waiting at their agreed meeting point without a single scratch on them. 

“Holy  _ shit, _ ” Lance cried when he saw the four shapes emerge from the night. “Did you guys  _ see  _ those shots? I don’t wanna suck my own dick or anything, but-” He cut himself off abruptly, his grin dimming when he finally realized there were one too many people. 

“Uh, Shiro, what did you…”

“You took a  _ hostage?! _ ” Hunk exclaimed in total disbelief, jaw dropping nearly to the ground.

“We don’t have time to talk about it now.” Shiro said in a voice that begged no argument. “We have to get our supplies and get moving.”

“It was me.” Keith said, unwilling to let Shiro take the brunt of Lance and Hunk’s reactions. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

Lance answered as Keith would have expected, throwing back his head with a dramatic groan.

“ _ Of course _ it was your idea.” He moaned, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fuck Keith.”

“Whatever.” he seethed, hanging onto his temper by a thread. “Let’s just go.”

Shiro shoved the hostage again, and the now slightly larger group marched off into the desert, Lance muttering complaints all the way.


	8. The Red Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith manages to get Matt's location out of their impromptu prisoner, but not everyone is pleased with the methods used.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves.

They didn’t stop that night, wanting to put as much distance between themselves and the Galra encampment as possible. If it had just been him and Keith, Shiro would have pushed them through the next day as well. But Lance and Hunk were starting to fall behind, and Pidge looked like she was being held up only by sheer determination. So, reluctantly, Shiro called them to a stop.

“I don’t even care about eating.” Lance moaned, dropping to the ground with a dull thud. “I just wanna crash.” He was already beginning to pull out the blanket from his backpack as he spoke.

“For once, I agree.” Hunk said, starting to prepare his own blankets. The circles underneath Pidge’s eyes looked like bruises, but she just frowned at her exhausted friends.

“What are we going to do with  _ him? _ ” she pointed to the man they had taken hostage, who was slumped under a nearby bush while Keith stood in front of him, bat at the ready. Externally, Keith still looked strong and alert, but really his legs were on fire and he wanted nothing more than to slip into a coma. 

“I suppose we should interrogate him.” Shiro muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. Keith heard the tone in his voice and spoke, furrowing his brow threateningly at their prisoner. 

“I’ll do it. Shiro, you take first watch and let the others sleep.”

Pidge sighed, long and heavy, not having the energy to argue. But as she started getting set up for bed, Shiro approached his brother. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked lowly, resting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith nodded shortly. 

“None of you want to, and I don’t care. So I’ll do it.” 

“Keith-”

“It’s alright, Shiro. Go get settled.” 

Shiro gave him a long look, but eventually gave in and let him go. Keith continued to study his captive, who was feigning sleep at the very least. From where his hands were bound in front of him, it was easy to see the purple Galra brand pressed into his skin. It had healed messily, the skin was raised and bumpy under the tattoo. The rising sun revealed muddy brown hair and a face even more weathered than he had originally guessed in the darkness of the building.

His jaw set. Kicking harshly at the man’s legs, he waited for him to rouse himself. 

“Come on.” Keith snarled meanly. “Get up.” He was taking too long, so finally Keith just leaned down and wrenched him to his feet by his bound hands and began to pull him away from the camp. This might get noisy, and he didn’t want to wake the others if he could help it. 

Once he was a decent distance away, he shoved the man carelessly to the ground and watched while he tried to sit up.

Keith decided to start easy. “What’s your name?”

The man, lying on his back in the dirt, flicked his eyes over his interrogator. His gaze lingered on the bat, then the knife, then the gun, and finally he seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it.

“Haxus.” 

“Alright, Haxus.” Keith approached until he was standing at Haxus’s feet. He tapped his bat lightly against the soles of the man’s shoe, catching his slight flinch. “Here’s whats going to happen. I’m going to ask you where someone is, and you’re going to tell me. What happens in between those two steps is up to you.”

Haxus raised his chin in defiance. “I remember you.” he said boldly. “From the arena. You were so reluctant to hurt anyone.” His face twisted into a cold sneer. “You won’t actually do anything. You’re too  _ good _ .” The last word was spat out like the taste of it soured his tongue, but Keith didn’t let it get to him. Instead, he let himself smile.

It was a terrifying smirk, even to Haxus. It slid slowly across his face, until Haxus actually felt his stomach knotting up. 

“I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.” Keith said, his voice sickeningly sweet. He took slow steps around his captive, circling like a predator, and Haxus resisted the shudder that ran through him. “Shiro was the Champion, he was the one with all the morals. But me? I don’t  _ care _ .” Now standing next to the other man’s head, he carefully knelt down, while Haxus held as still as possible. 

“You think I don’t remember you.” Keith hissed into his ear, and Haxus jolted. 

_ Fuck. _

“But I do. You were such an obedient lapdog, doing whatever Lotor wanted, taking all of your resentment out on us. You enjoyed it. You thought I was too out of it to recognize you, but you were  _ wrong _ .”

He stood suddenly, making the air whoosh slightly over Haxus’s face. He watched Keith stalk back around to his feet, and despite his pride, he was trembling. 

“Really, you’re lucky Shiro is here. All he wants is the information. But if it was just the two of us, I wouldn’t stop there. I’d do it just for fun.” Keith’s eyes were sparkling with a vicious light, and Haxus dimly remembered what they had called him in the arena. The name ‘Red Lion’ wasn’t too far off. 

Keith snarled, just to see Haxus flinch, and then backed off a step or two, smoothing his face back to impassivity. “Now, I’m going to ask you this once, nicely.” He slowly crouched, tapping his fingers against Haxus’s shin until he looked at him. 

“Where is Matt Holt?”

Haxus’s eyes widened ever so slightly in undeniable recognition, and then gulped and looked away from Keith. “Never heard of him.”

That sick smile returned to Keith’s face. “That’s what I was hoping you were going to say.”

Then the bat was smashing against his shin, and Haxus screamed.

* * *

 

It was a testament to their exhaustion that the others could sleep through the racket Haxus was making. But Shiro was awake, and he could hear all of it, and it chilled him to his core. He had heard those sounds before, those kinds of pained screams; bitten back at first for the sake of pride, then steadily growing less constrained as pain eroded at the mind. He knew, because only a few scant months ago, it was him making those sounds.

He tried to block it out. He tried not to think of Lotor, of those cold eyes and the long blonde hair that snapped like a whip while he beat Shiro. Or that sickly sweet voice he used while he taunted Keith, that pleased smile that split his lips when Keith broke down. He tried not to imagine Keith doing the same thing. 

But it was a losing battle.

He was just about ready to unravel by the end of his watch, but he managed to stitch himself together enough to appear calm to Pidge when he woke her. She rubbed her eyes and yawned so wide it could have split her skull, and then froze when another shriek echoed across the desert. 

“Is that-”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Shiro just turned away, returning to where he had spread out his blanket. Before he could lay down and pretend to sleep, Pidge was speaking to him, quietly so that she didn’t wake Lance or Hunk, who still snored peacefully beside them.

“Shiro, are you okay with this?” Shiro chanced a look at her, and felt a pang in his chest at her concerned expression. He forced himself to give a half shrug as he turned his eyes away again.

“He probably has information about Matt.” he said, unable to keep his exhaustion from his voice. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Shiro set his jaw and roughly dropped to his blanket, turning his back to Pidge. Normally he wouldn’t be so harsh with her, with any of them, but he didn’t think he could bear to have this conversation. Thankfully, Pidge got the message loud and clear.

_ I don’t want to talk about this _ .

So she sat through her watch. She didn’t want to be afraid, not when all of this was being done on her behalf, but she couldn’t help it. The sounds Haxus was making were truly awful, and she could only imagine what Keith was doing to him to make those sounds. Despite herself, she found her body trembling. 

The sun rose higher in the sky, the shadows shifted, Lance and Hunk slept, and Haxus screamed. It just kept going, until Pidge thought she was going to go crazy listening to it. 

_ I don’t care if he doesn’t know where Matt is. _ She thought to herself.  _ Just make it stop _ .

She wound up with her hands pressed over her ears, so tightly she almost didn’t notice when the screaming suddenly stopped. Both she and Shiro (who had been pretending to sleep for hours) tentatively relaxed the tension in their muscles, only for it to return when they heard Keith calling for them. He didn’t sound overly distressed, so they took a moment to wake Lance and Hunk before seeking out their comrade.

Pidge, normally very strong stomached, felt bile pushing up when she saw Haxus. His entire face was swollen up in bruises, blood dribbling from various splits in the skin. Both of his legs and his right arm had been broken and were sticking out at horrifying angles. Cuts of various sizes and depths littered his body, and if she wasn’t mistaken, that was a stab wound. 

Even without looking at their faces, she could tell Lance and Hunk were similarly affected, if their silence was anything to go by. Only Shiro dared to take a trembling step closer.

“Keith…”

His brother ignored the message in his voice and knelt beside his mangled captive, hauling him into a sitting position by his hair. All of the onlookers felt their guts twist at Haxus’s pained whimper. 

Carefully, face blank, Keith pressed the barrel on his pistol against one of Haxus’s kneecaps, who squeezed his eyes shut in response. 

“Go on, tell them.” he ordered. Haxus was silent, until Keith pulled back the hammer on his gun. The warning click made Haxus jump, and the words began to pour from his bloody, swollen lips. 

“We captured Matt Holt a month ago.” he babbled, a desperate edge in his voice. “He was too scrawny for the arena and the Garrison wouldn’t pay a ransom, so at first we were just going to kill him. But Lotor saw how smart he was, and he ordered him to be moved to one of our manufacturing camps.”

Dimly, Pidge wondered what they were manufacturing, but she didn’t have time to worry about it now.

“And where is that camp?” Keith asked. When Haxus said nothing, he gave an exasperated sigh and lifted the gun from his knee, only to press it to his temple instead. “Do I really need to explain this to you? Either you don’t tell us, I kill you, we find the camp anyway and you die for nothing. Or you tell us, and you live.” 

“Fine.” The word escaped in a sob. He rattled off a long string of coordinates, which Pidge scrambled to write down on their map. 

Once she was done, she nodded to Keith, who turned back to Haxus. They stared at each other for a long moment, the captive’s expression pleading and Keith’s unreadable.

“Thank you, Haxus.” he said quietly. And then he pulled the trigger.

Pidge’s horrified gasp mingled with the echo of the round and the splatter of brains against the ground. Hunk took one look at the hideous red mess and the slack corpse and vomited. She stumbled backwards into Lance’s chest, and he clung to her shoulders. Shiro was the only one to move forward. 

“What the hell, Keith?” he exploded, the loud noise making them all flinch. He stalked forward, roughly pulling Keith to his feet by the strap of his tank top. 

“What?” his brother snarled in response, taking a half step back. 

“Why did you kill him?!”

“What was I supposed to do, just let him go?”

“We weren’t even supposed to do this in the first place!” They had never seen Shiro so angry, and even Keith was cringing back from his wrath. “This wasn’t part of the plan!”

“The plan didn’t get us anywhere!” Keith retorted. “We got what we wanted! We know where Matt is, what’s the problem?”

“It doesn’t matter if we got what we wanted if we turn into  _ them _ !”

Keith recoiled with a hiss. “Stop yelling at me.” he spat out, turning away from Shiro’s angry face. “I got us what we wanted.”

“Keith, we can’t just run around torturing and killing people. If we do that, we’re no better than them.” 

“No, Shiro, Keith is right.” They were all shocked to hear Lance’s voice piping up, and no one was more surprised than Keith. Pidge could feel his hands trembling on her shoulders, but he still bravely took a step forward, trying his best to keep his voice level as he spoke.

“If we let him go, he would have just found his way back to the Galra and warned them we were coming.” His skin was dead pale, but he had his jaw set in a way that said no one would be able to shut him up before he was done. “If we left him tied up somewhere, he’d just starve to death or get eaten alive by muertos. Keith was  _ merciful _ .”

Heavy silence blanketed the desert, the only sound being Hunk still dry heaving. Pidge moved over to him and rubbed his back, eyes still locked on the Mexican standoff before her and trying to ignore the corpse. 

Shiro’s anger melted out of him, and he folded in on himself. He looked more tired and frazzled than he had this entire time. 

“Not killing doesn’t make us better than them, Shiro.” Lance murmured, staring down at the blood stained dirt like he was trying to get used to the sight. “It just makes us stupider.”

* * *

 

Keith still felt sick. It had been a full day since he killed Haxus, a full day of them traveling north towards the coordinates he had given up, and Shiro hadn’t looked at him once the whole time. 

He knew this feeling, this ice around his heart and lead in his stomach. This was rejection, this was getting left behind again, this was what he had always feared. This had been inevitable.

Nothing ever lasted. No matter how happy things felt, how secure, he always ruined it, they always fell apart. It had happened with his birth parents, it had happened with every foster parent he’d ever had, and now it was happening with Shiro. He was a fool to think it could have ended any other way. 

_ It’s your own fault _ . He reminded himself as they walked, him up ahead as usual to avoid the pointed lack of glances from his brother.  _ You let yourself get close, you knew this was going to happen eventually, but you let yourself open up anyway. Stupid, stupid, stupid.  _

The others saw him shut down in the face of Shiro’s anger. He withdrew again, stopped bantering with Lance and arguing about anime with Pidge. There was always silence amongst them, their voices suffocated by the tension blooming between the two of them. Keith felt bad, he didn’t mean to make the others miserable too. But there was nothing he could do now, not without hurting more.

It was the second night. The fire crackled, a little too merrily for Keith’s brooding mood. Everyone had already gone to sleep, he was taking first watch. At least, he thought everyone had gone to sleep. About half an hour after they all retired, Lance stirred and sat up.

Lance’s eyes were clear when they landed on Keith; he had been waiting for the others to fall asleep to talk to him. Keith’s eyes burned as he looked away. 

“Keith.”

“Don’t, Lance.” Keith hated how small his voice sounded, but he couldn’t help it. His throat was already closing up. 

“Shiro will come around.” His eyes still hadn’t left Keith, making his skin prickle. “You’re his brother.”

“No, he was right.” Keith shook his head, angry at the tears that were trying to force their way out of his eyes. “I’m just like him.”

“Him?”

Keith hesitated, biting into his lip. But finally, he cracked, and he whispered, “Lotor.”

Lance’s eyes widened in horror, and he moved as though he was going to come closer, but Keith flinched back. Lance got the message, but the concerned furrow between his brows didn’t leave.

“Keith, that’s not what Shiro meant. You know that.”

Keith shook his head again, raising his fists to his eyes and pressing to prevent the tears from escaping. It felt better like this, not having to look at his face.

“I didn’t do that to Haxus just to find out where Matt was.” he admitted, hating how his voice wobbled. “I remembered him, from before. He used to help Lotor hurt Shiro, and I wanted to make him hurt like that. I wanted to make him suffer, and I  _ enjoyed  _ it. I’m no different from him.” His shoulders shook and his chest ached, but he still refused to cry. He was the bad guy here, he didn’t have the right. 

“Keith. Look at me.” 

Slowly, Keith obeyed, raising his shiny eyes to Lance’s serious ones. The expression on his face left no room for argument as he spoke.

“There  _ is  _ a difference. You got revenge on someone who hurt someone you loved, for the benefit of one of your friends. Lotor hurts innocent people who have done nothing, just because he gets off to it. What you did might be morally grey, but there is a difference.”

That put a crack in Keith’s armor, and he bit down violently on his tongue to keep from sobbing. Coppery blood filled his mouth, but he just swallowed it, using the pain to hold himself together.

“I hurt innocent people.” he found himself saying, staring miserably into the fire. “In the arena.”

“So did Shiro.” Lance countered. “You did what you had to.”

“Shiro always tried. He always tried to give them mercy. He didn’t let himself give into it.” He had to stop talking, he was about two words away from crumbling. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. 

“But I did. I let myself get consumed by all of it, the blood and the adrenaline. I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing, I just did it, and I didn’t feel anything until later, when it was too late.”

“Don’t compare yourself to me.” 

Both of them jumped violently at the new voice, and Keith wilted when Shiro sat up. Shiro was finally looking at him, and it felt like lasers burning into his flesh. 

“I’m not any better than you.” he continued, not moving his gaze. “I gave in to it just as much as you did. Neither of us would be alive if we hadn’t.”

Keith made a choking sound, but didn’t say anything. For once, neither did Lance, who just stared at Shiro with wide eyes. Shiro finally lowered his eyes to the ground with a sigh. 

“They called me the Champion, but I wasn’t any different from any of the others in that arena. That’s why I yelled at you.”

“I don’t…” Keith was barely holding the tears in by now. He had never been much of a crier, but ever since the outbreak started, he had become a leaky faucet. 

“I yelled at you for becoming one of them because that’s what I’m afraid of.” he said simply. He had clearly put quite a bit of thought into this. “I feel guilty about what I did in the arena, and I’m afraid of becoming one of them, and that’s why I acted the way I did. Keith, I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.” 

He raised his eyes to Keith’s once more, and Keith dimly admired his ability to put forth all of his emotions in such a straightforward way. Shiro was so ready to consider his actions and his emotions, to lay it all out before him, to try to resolve them. Whereas Keith would sooner bottle it all up and wait for the explosion. 

“I know…” Shiro’s voice trailed off, and he flicked his gaze to Lance momentarily before he resumed speaking. “I know how it gets to you. And I’m sorry.”

Keith’s shoulders shuddered in one last valiant attempt, but the floodgates had cracked long ago, and the tears spilled. He held his breath, trying not to sob, but Shiro’s tight hug squeezed it out of him. 

He twisted his hands into Shiro’s shirt and held on for dear life. His brain was a storm of conflicting emotions, he couldn’t make sense of any of them. 

“I thought…” Keith couldn’t finish this sentence, but he didn’t need to. Shiro knew.

_ I thought you were going to leave me. _

He pressed his face into Shiro’s shoulder, trying his damn best to calm his heaving breaths. He didn’t want to do this in front of Lance, not again; he didn’t want to wake up Hunk and Pidge. He didn’t want to look pathetic in front of them again. So, before he was ready, he pushed back from his brother and fisted the tears away.

But when he looked, Lance had already laid back down, facing away to give them some modicum of privacy. Still, he didn’t look back at Shiro. He stared down at the ground instead, sniffling despondently. Sickly relief was crashing over his shoulders, but now that all of this had happened, that old voice in the back of his skull had returned.

_ Stay away, it’s only going to hurt, they’re going to leave. No one has ever wanted you and no one ever will.  _

Shiro could tell. He could always tell.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured, settling into position beside Keith. He shook his head in response.

“You were right, I shouldn’t have done all of that.” 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We know where Matt is, and we’re going to go get him. The past is the past.”

Keith slumped into his side, the old familiar warmth wrapping around him like a blanket. He was tired, and his eyes burned, and that little voice still whispered to him. The fire in front of them flickered and for a moment he was back in the Shirogane family house, coiled up on the couch after he had finally given in and told Shiro the truth about everything that had happened to him. Then he blinked, and the illusion of the living room dissipated back into the cold desert. It was brief, and bittersweet.

But to some small degree, it comforted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	9. Bonding Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team makes their way towards the coordinates given to them by Haxus, and during the journey have some time to come together a little more than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is pretty angsty, but it also has one of the most light hearted moments in the entire fic, so cherish it while you can.

The others picked up on the change in the brothers’ dynamic right away and a light air returned to the group. Pidge walked with a new bounce in her step, the reality of their situation finally sinking in. They were going to find her brother, for real this time.

A distracted smile curved the edges of her lips at the thought, and Shiro elbowed her shoulder gently. Looking up, she could see a similar expression on his face. 

“Excited?” 

“Aren’t you?” Pidge said, grinning. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I don’t even mind that I’m gonna have to fight through a bunch of dudes to get to him.”

Shiro’s smile faltered a little, but he propped it back up for Pidge’s sake. 

“I saw him the day of the outbreak.” He recalled. “He caught up with me in the parking lot before I drove home.”

“What did he say?” Pidge’s voice had lost a little bit of it’s spring, but her face looked more nostalgic than anything else. Shiro paused, having to put real effort into remembering.

“I think it was… Oh, right. He was telling me he’d finally gotten approved to go home for a few days.” 

“Really? Huh.” 

“Yeah. He was so excited.” 

Suddenly Shiro’s face darkened, giving Pidge a pause.

“Uh, Shiro?”

“Sorry, Pidge.” he muttered. “You mind if we stop talking about this?” 

Her smile slid into a frown, and she turned back towards the front, pondering deeply. What could have caused that reaction? She ran through her mental database of facts about Shiro, trying to reverse engineer the solution like a math problem. 

The day of the outbreak. What had happened the day of the outbreak? Well, besides the obvious. She knew his parents had died thanks to Lance, but other than that she had no idea. But based on that conversation, they had probably died that same day. Which meant they probably turned. Which meant…

She suddenly picked up her pace, rushing to catch up with Keith, who was scouting up ahead as usual. He heard her approach and turned expectantly as she came up alongside, panting slightly from the sudden burst of speed.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Yes Pidge?” He arched an eyebrow, curious as to what could have made her rush up here. But now that she was on the verge of asking, the words caught on her tongue.

“I… I was just thinking about Matt.” she murmured, looking away in sudden embarrassment. “And I was wondering if-- ifyouwouldtellmeaboutyourparents.” The last part was a rush of air, all one word, and her cheeks flushed when she finished. Thankfully, Keith didn’t seem upset, just bemused.

“Which ones?” he asked dryly. It took her a second, but a grin split her cheeks when Pidge realized he was making a joke.

“Shiro’s.” she clarified. “I was talking to him about the day of the outbreak and he kinda shut down on me.”

Keith hummed a little in the back of his throat and kicked a rock out of his path. “Yeah, doesn’t surprise me. It’s no different from most outbreak stories, really. I got home from school and went to the kitchen, and they both came after me.”

“What did you do?” 

“I grabbed a knife.” His voice had dropped to a mutter and he was hunching his shoulders, as though he wasn’t proud of his actions. “I warned them, but they wouldn’t stop, and I kind of panicked.” 

He stopped there, and Pidge didn’t pursue it. Since he was here and they were not, it was clear how that story had ended.

“How did you tell Shiro?” was what she said instead, suddenly feeling her stomach sink. It hadn’t occurred to her until this moment, but now she was realizing she would have to tell Matt what happened to their parents. 

Keith shrugged. “I didn’t. He found me.”

“Found you?”

“I was still in the kitchen when he got home from the Garrison. He found me with their bodies, covered in blood, still holding onto the knife.”

Pidge gulped. “What did he do?”

“He stayed calm. I knew it looked bad, but I couldn’t really explain what happened. He didn’t jump to conclusions, just tried to get me to chill out. I don’t think he would have believed me if I was able to talk coherently, but before it came to that a biter broke into the house and he didn’t really have a choice.”

For a moment there was silence as Pidge turned this new information over in her mind. Yes, now Shiro’s reaction earlier made perfect sense. 

“What happened to yours?” Keith’s voice broke through her reverie, and it took her a second to realize what he had asked. When she did, she felt her shoulders slouch, and she considered refusing to tell him. But that wouldn’t really be fair, would it?

“Everything was fine at first.” she said, heaving a sigh. “We made it for a few weeks. But things went wrong, and my dad got bit.” It had been a long time since she had told this story, a long time since she had let herself think about it, and tears rose to her eyes. 

“He didn’t want to turn.” she choked, forcing herself to go on. “He decided he was going to kill himself before it happened.” She glanced at Keith, looking for a reaction, but he just nodded sagely. He understood.

“And my mom-” here her voice cracked with sudden anger. “My mom decided she was going to go with him.” She felt Keith’s sharp gaze, but she didn’t trust herself to look up again without bursting into tears. 

“She didn’t say anything about it. After my dad… she just picked up the gun and looked at me. She said ‘Go find your brother, Katie.’ and then she…” 

Pidge sniffled, dragging the sleeve of her hoodie across her eyes. She wasn’t necessarily shocked when she felt Keith’s arm snake around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. It was awkward to walk like this, but she didn’t mind.

“What did you do?” Keith asked softly. “After?”

“I didn’t know what to do, so I just went home. That’s when I ran into Lance and Hunk.”

Keith didn’t say he was sorry for her. He didn’t give her a pitying look. Instead, he just squeezed one of her shoulders, which Pidge accepted with a grateful sniffle.

“Sorry I-” she began, and Keith promptly cut her off.

“You know the rules. Don’t say sorry.”

* * *

A night or two later, the whole group was coiled up next to their roaring fire. Despite the heat, they were all shivering as they waited for Hunk to finish roasting that night’s desert rat. The camp Haxus had told them about was in northern Utah, and the farther north they went, the colder it got.

“Man.” Lance said wistfully, resting his chin on his drawn up knees. “I would fucking  _ kill  _ for s’mores right now.”

“You and me both, buddy.” Hunk mumbled in assent, idly turning the rat. “I dream of marshmallows.”

“Remember how I used to light mine on fire? And you would insist it was a disgrace to mankind?”

“I stand by that statement. Marshmallows should only be roasted until golden brown, no more, no less.”

“Nah man, you need the smokiness or it’s not worth it.”

“How could I be friends with such a peasant?”

Lance gave his best friend a toothy grin and scooted closer to where he sat. “Remember that time we got into a marshmallow fight in your house?”

Hunk made a face. “Yes. We were finding those things in the carpet for months, my moms were so mad!”

The two boys shared a chuckle, and then Hunk jumped back into the conversation, his face brightening. 

“Oh, remember when you talked me into ditching a pep rally but all we did was sit in the corner of the cafeteria on our phones?”

“And the security guard walked right past us!” Lance finished up, his laugh a little louder than before. “Yeah! Man, he was stupid.” 

“Still better than a pep rally.” 

“Does that even require saying?”

They laughed again, and their three companions watched in silent amazement, none of the three having the heart to pop their bubble of nostalgia. 

“Is it petty that I’m really glad that school got destroyed?” Lance said, hiding his smirk behind his fist. Hunk turned over the rat again, looking at Lance with sly eyes. 

“I mean, yes, but I think we’re allowed to be a little petty. That place sucked.”

“Except the girls.” Lance said dreamily, making Hunk roll his eyes. “The girls were great.”

“You know, if I had asked you a year ago if you wanted to be chased by a bunch of rabid girls desperate to get their mouths on you, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.”

Pidge couldn’t help bursting into laughter at the affronted look on Lance’s face. 

“If I’m remembering correctly,” she cackled, “You spent more time watching the boys track team than the cheerleaders.” 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, sounding half offended and half amused. “Did you even look at them? I mean, holy  _ shorts _ !”

Keith let out a choked snort. “You’re  _ kidding _ .”

“I most certainly am not! Boys are gods gift to mankind!” 

Keith looked like he had just swallowed his tongue, and absolutely no one could resist laughing at his expression, not even Shiro. 

“I mean, I don’t disagree.” he mumbled, crossing his arms. “Except about the girls. No offense Pidge.”

“None taken, my dude.” Pidge replied. “Not even sure I  _ am  _ a girl, anyway.”

“Doth my ears deceive me,” Lance said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart in mock astonishment, “Or is the legendary, mysterious, astoundingly emo Keith  _ gay _ ?”

Keith scoffed at him. “What, you thought I was straight? Hell no.”

“God bless.” Lance murmured, crossing himself and inspiring another round of laughter around the fire. 

“Surviving the zombie apocalypse is gay culture.” Pidge muttered, half to herself, and they all collapsed into helpless giggles again. Keith’s cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling, and even Shiro’s face was colored with mirth. 

“Do any of you guys remember that one ridiculous movie?” Hunk asked. “What was it called… Warm Bodies?”

“I remember!” Pidge shouted, nearly falling over in her enthusiasm. “That movie  _ sucked _ !”

“What?” Keith inquired. “I never heard of it.”

“It’s about how a girl saves the world from the zombie apocalypse through the power of hetero love.” Lance snickered with an eyeroll. “It was truly awful.”

Keith made a face, and Shiro laughed and pounded him on the back. 

“You would have hated that.” he chortled. 

“Man, it majorly sucks everyone died before the Justice League movie came out.” said Lance, throwing himself back to lay on the ground with his arms spread out on either side of him. “Wonder Woman  _ and  _ Khal Drogo in the same movie? My little bi heart would’ve exploded.”

Keith hummed a little in agreement. “Yeah, I could appreciate Gal Gadot.”

“Dude, even  _ I  _ would date that woman.” Pidge chimed in. 

“Pidge, you’re the gayest not gay person I’ve ever met.” Hunk said with a soft smile. “I’m not surprised.”

“That’s beside the point.” Pidge deadpanned, and Shiro practically died laughing. 

“Ok, ok.” Hunk said, trying to calm them. “Come on guys, dinner’s ready.” 

* * *

Shiro was trying. He really was. The others were depending on him to keep it together, especially Keith. He was the adult, he was the one who was supposed to know what he was doing. He was the one who had to keep himself calm, cool, and collected; no matter the situation. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. 

Being in Galra territory made him just as paranoid as it made Keith. He had nightmares almost every time he closed his eyes, and the flashbacks were starting to seriously screw with his head. Half a dozen times a day he would blink and the desert would disappear. He would find himself back in the arena, standing over a broken body- or in Lotor’s torture room, feeling a whip bite into his skin. Then he would blink again and everything would go back to normal.

Shiro really tried not to let the others know what was going on. Of course, Keith always seemed to know when he wasn’t quite there, and would drop a comforting hand on his shoulder. And up until now, that had been enough. But as they pushed further and further north, closer to where Matt was being held, it helped less and less, until it stopped working all together. He just couldn’t bring himself to ask for anything more. 

One night, the nightmares were worse than they had been in months. They weren’t linear or clear, just a jumble of mismatched images, yet still perfectly capable of terrifying him. 

_ Lotor’s boots clicked across the concrete floor, every step sending jitters up his spine. To distract himself from the oncoming pain, he tried to guess what Lotor had in store for him today. Knives? Run of the mill beating? The whip was always a favorite. Lotor finally came to a stop right in front of him, grinning his usual predatory smile. _

_ “Shall we begin?” _

_ Suddenly the warehouse dissolved, revealing his old family home. Not in control of his own motions, he pushed over the front door and proceeded down the hallway, lined with photos of him and his parents and even some of Keith. He didn’t want to keep going forward, he knew what he was going to see, but he couldn’t stop. He stepped out of the hallway, the leather of his Garrison boots shining when they landed in the pool of blood. _

_ Slowly, painstakingly, his eyes dragged upwards until he found the source. And his heart shuddered to a stop. Both of his elderly parents, stretched out on the floor in pools of crimson, eyes and mouths agape and terrible wounds carved into them. Before he could look further and see Keith coiled into the corner, the scene changed again. _

_ It was the arena, the roar of the crowd deafening. Sweat stung where it ran into his eyes, and there was a slice across his knuckles that felt like pins and needles with every beat of his heart. This was his third fight in a row, they just kept pushing him, wouldn’t let him sleep. He just wanted to sleep.  _

_ The gate across the sand creaked open again, and Shiro’s heart sank through his feet. He couldn’t take another fight, he wouldn’t win this one, he couldn’t win this one. But there was something about the person on the other side of the arena that was painfully familiar. Black hair.  _

_ The desert sprawled out in front of him, and his broken arm burned where it scraped against his side. He had his other arm wrapped around his brother, trying to pull him away from the Galra who had his gun trained on them. Sendak, the other had called him.  _

_ He wasn’t going to let them hurt Keith again. He could take it, he could handle whatever they did to him, as long as they didn’t hurt his little brother.  _

_ But now Sendak was gone and Lotor was back, and he was pulling Keith away from him, and then there was pain; more and more and more until he was screaming with it.  _

“Shiro!”

_ He tried to stop screaming, he knew Lotor used it to mess with Keith, but he just couldn’t. _

“Shiro! Wake up!”

_ I’m sorry, Keith, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry- _

“SHIRO!”

He sat bolt upright with a gasp, chest heaving. Keith was kneeling in front of him, or at least he thought it was Keith, but his brain couldn’t seem to figure out where he was. The desert would be there one second and then gone the next, morphing into the arena or his house or the torture room before going back again. 

“Shiro, are you ok?” The voice who had been calling to him was much softer now, and someone rested a hand on his shoulder. He latched onto the pressure and the heat, using it to pull himself back to reality. He blinked, once, twice, and then-

Shiro let out a heavy sigh as the desert came back into focus and stayed there. Slowly, details began bleeding in. A small fire still crackling, Keith kneeling in front of him with a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, the other three awakened from their sleep and staring at him with wide eyes.

He flinched a little when he saw them, and directed his gaze to the ground.

“I’m fine.” he muttered gruffly. “Go back to sleep.” 

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Pidge glance at Keith. He nodded, and although they seemed concerned, all of them laid back down and tried their best to do as he asked.

Keith’s hand shifted to wrap around Shiro’s wrist, and then he was pulling.

“Come on.” he murmured. “Let’s go talk, ok?”

Shiro recognized that tone. That was the same one he used when he was trying to calm down Keith, and although he slightly resented having it directed at him, he went along with Keith anyway.

The younger of the two led them a short distance away from the camp before stopping and turning Shiro to face him. Shiro pulled his hand out of his grasp and shoved them into his pockets. It was colder out here, away from the fire, and the wind was biting.

Shiro expected Keith to ask him about his nightmare, or tell him it was going to be ok, or even just say nothing. So what he actually said was surprising.

“It’s been getting to you too, huh?” he said softly, expression just as soft as he looked at Shiro. Shocked, Shiro chanced a look upwards and swallowed hard.

“Yeah… I guess so.”

Keith held out his arms wordlessly, letting Shiro decide. Shiro considered for a moment, and then hesitatingly accepted the hug. He had to lean down slightly to tuck his face into Keith’s shoulder and it was a little bit awkward, but neither of them said anything about it. He felt Keith’s fingers run through his hair and bit his lip. He wasn’t used to being comforted. Usually when he felt a little out of it, he’d just lean his head on Keith’s shoulder or something and work it through himself. But he had to admit it felt nice just to be held. 

“What do you need to hear?” Keith asked. Shiro answered honestly.

“I don’t know.”

There was a pause as Keith considered and Shiro waited to see what he would come up with. He didn’t want to hear that everything would be ok, because he knew there was no guarantee it would be. He didn’t want Keith to say he would protect him, because that was Shiro’s job. 

“We’re gonna get Matt back.” is what he decided on. “We’re going to get him back, and we’re going to get some payback while we do it. We’re going to make the Galra regret ever touching us.”

Usually Keith’s aggression made him anxious, but right now it helped. Made him feel less weak, less out of control. 

“You don’t always have to be the strong one, you know.”

Shiro huffed a little at that, turning his head away to lay flat on Keith’s shoulder. 

“Someone has to.” 

“Doesn’t always have to be you.” 

Shiro didn’t answer. 

“You’re not alone out here, Shiro. I’m here too.”

Shiro let out a breath and squeezed Keith around the middle, a wordless thanks. Keith squeezed back. 

“Do you want to go back?”

“Not yet.”

So they stayed there awhile longer, until they were both shivering, and then they returned to the fire. For the first time in several days, Shiro wasn’t just pretending to feel calm.

* * *

Keith said killing Galra was easy for him. At the time, torturing Haxus certainly seemed easy. Lance had been hoping that mindset would carry over to him. While he sniped the night of their infiltration, he’d tried to think about all the bad things the Galra had done. He tried to imagine Shiro standing over bloody arena sand or Keith bound with that look he got before he broke down. He tried to think about what they could be doing to Matt, tried to imagine the worst things he possibly could. But in the end, it didn’t do anything.

His stomach still rebelled after every shot, after he saw their heads explode through his scope. By the third shot he had to have Hunk spot for him so that he didn’t miss, he was trembling so hard. As soon as they spotted the others scrambling back over the fence, he’d thrown himself into the bushes and vomited up everything he’d eaten in the last three days. Hunk rubbed his back and gave him as long as he could, and then bundled him up with all of their stuff and rushed them off to the meeting point. 

“Are you ok, man?” he’d asked Lance as they waited for the others. Lance hadn’t known what to say. He was mostly numb, not feeling much of anything besides revulsion and the slightest chill of guilt. So he just made a joke instead.

“I would make the worst serial killer.” he said with a dry chuckle, which Hunk didn’t return.

“Seriously Lance.”

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t tell Pidge, she’d never let me live it down.” 

Hunk looked at him with concerned eyes, but at that moment the others returned, and Lance plastered on his false bravado.

Now, days later, he was still thinking about it. Even though they were Galra, he couldn’t help but wonder if they had friends, family. They must have had their own stories, their own reasons. Maybe some of them didn’t even want to be there. 

He tried to keep on a brave face for the others, especially after Shiro woke up screaming one night, but it was starting to eat at him. He was eating less at meals and it began to take longer for him to fall asleep, even after long days of walking. And it was really starting to annoy him. The whole point of being a sniper was the distance. You didn’t have to be close, you didn’t have to see their faces or feel the heat of their blood on you. It shouldn’t have bothered him this much.

But it did. It really did. He kept replaying the moments over and over in his head. The echo of the rifle, the kick against his shoulder, the splatter of blood and brains as his shots found their marks. 

He was expecting Hunk’s worried looks and pointed comments. What he wasn’t expecting was to be confronted by Pidge one day while they continued their march.

He had fallen a little behind the others, taking up a position in the back not that much different from Keith’s up ahead. His light jacket was way too thin for how cold the wind was and he was miserably daydreaming about warm sand and the crash of waves when he noticed the younger girl dropping back to join him.

“Hey.” he said with a smirk, trying his best not to let his teeth chatter. “Get boring up there with Mullet?”

“Something’s bothering you.” she said, blunt as always. “Spill.”

“Pidge-”

“I’ve known you for years, bro, don’t try to play dumb with me.”

“It’s the zombie apocalypse, pretty sure there’s lots of things bothering all of us.”

“ _ Lance _ .”

“Ok, ok.” He huffed in rough annoyance, but Pidge seemed to know he didn’t mean it. Hunk always noticed when he was upset about something, but gave him time to come to him about it on his own. And sometimes that worked. But other times he wouldn’t, and Pidge knew when he needed to be pushed. This was one of those times.

“I guess I’m still hung up on the Galra guys I had to snipe, that’s all.” He hunched up his shoulders and stared down at the ground, waiting for Pidge to triumphantly declare that she had told him so. 

“I get it.” Is what he got instead, and he turned to her with wide eyes.

Pidge, mistaking his look for one of affront, flushed and shoved her glasses up her nose. 

“I mean, I don’t  _ get it  _ get it, I’ve never killed anyone before so I can’t really know what it’s like or how you’re feeling or anything like that but I mean I get it in that I get why you’re upset about it-”

“Pidge, dude, breathe.” 

“Sorry.” she quirked her lip, staring up at the taller boy with puppy eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not much to say.” he responded vaguely with a shiver, and he pulled up his hood with a muttered curse.

“Do you feel guilty?”

“I guess.” he scowled at the sting as the tips of his chilled ears began to warm again. “I keep wondering if any of them had friends or family. Someone to miss them.” 

Pidge started to speak, and Lance rushed to cut her off before she could.

“But it’s not a big deal. The world has gone to hell, this would have happened eventually. I just need to get over it.”

“No, you don’t.” Pidge said stubbornly, face setting in stone. “Killing people isn’t easy, and not getting over it isn’t bad.”

“Keith and Shiro got over it.” he mumbled. Pidge gave him a sharp look.

“They had to if they didn’t want to completely lose it. Besides, they’re both still torn up over what happened in the arena.”

“But this isn’t the same.” he insisted. “These are Galra, the bad guys, killing them shouldn’t bother me. It doesn’t bother Keith.”

“You aren’t Keith. It’s not wrong to not like killing, Lance.”

Lance heaved a sigh, glancing up at where Shiro and Hunk walked ahead of them. They were talking quietly, though the wind was too loud for him to hear what they were saying. 

“It’s getting in the way.”

“Look, I’m no psychologist, but talking about this kind of thing is supposed to help. So talk to us. Talk to me, or Hunk, hell even Keith. In fact, Keith would probably be the best option since he can relate. Just don’t bottle it up, ok?”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Promise?” Lance looked over to see her holding up her right hand, pinkie finger extended. He couldn’t help the smile that cracked his lips, and he wrapped a finger around hers.

“Promise.”


	10. Big Damn Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finally makes it to the camp Matt is being held in, but things don't go quite according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the turning point of the story, where shit starts hitting the fan. Enjoy.

They had been expecting something big, but maybe not something quite  _ this  _ big. 

The Galra camp took up area of three square miles, encompassing the whole of an industrial spot just outside of the remains of a small city. It was completely surrounded by alternating wall and fence, topped all the way around by barbed wire. 

“So no climbing this time.” Lance had commented wryly when he saw it, and Keith had elbowed him. 

The most noticeable part of the encampment was the large warehouse that sat near the southwest corner. It was a pre-outbreak structure, much sturdier than any of the buildings the Galra had constructed. Based on it’s still decent condition, the Galra had been maintaining it for however long they had been here. They were using it for something.

The little group spent several days just scoping the place out, watching for guard patterns and any clues as to where the prisoners might be being held. They got what they wanted.

“From what I can tell,” Lance said, straightening up from his scope and cracking his neck, “Whatever they’re making is being handled in that warehouse, and that’s where they keep the prisoners they’re using for labor.”

“So that’s where Matt is?” asked Pidge, peering over the edge of her glasses at him. 

“Yup.”

“Did you find us a way in?” Keith’s voice came from a few feet away, where he was pacing with his arms crossed. He had been absolutely wired since they had arrived, and his constant pacing and fidgeting wasn’t helping the rest of them with their nerves.

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Lance was sitting on the ground, and spun a little so that he faced the others. Pidge had been sitting right behind him, while Hunk and Shiro had given him a little more space.

“There are two gates.” Lance began, more solemnly than they had come to expect from him. “One on the north side and one on the south side. The north gate is the main one, so it’s ridiculously heavily guarded. No way we’re getting in through there.

“ _ But _ , the south side is a different story. Not only is it closer to the warehouse, but it’s also only got two guards on it at any given time. Sneaking through there should be child's play.”

“Alright.” Shiro began. “So we should-”

“I wasn’t done.” Lance’s mouth creased into a frown. “We have to avoid the west side of the encampment, don’t go any further than the warehouse.”

“Uh, why?” Hunk asked, idly flicking his thumb over the blade of his butcher knife. 

“There’s some really important dude visiting the camp from the looks of it, and his set up is on the west side. He’s always surrounded by guards.”

Keith hissed in annoyance, but Shiro looked intrigued. 

“Have you seen this guy?” he asked, and Lance nodded.

“Yeah, he’s been walking around the past few days like he’s inspecting the place. I figure he must be important cause he’s got this stupidly long blonde hair and no one in their right mind would try to fight muertos with that kind of hand hold…” Lance’s voice trailed off when he noticed both Shiro and Keith had gone several shades paler. Keith had frozen in his pacing and now he stared down at Shiro with wide eyes.

“Uh, guys? Are you ok?”

Pidge, unlike Lance, immediately understood what they were thinking.

“Shit.” she whispered. “Is that-”

“Lotor.” Shiro confirmed with a tight jaw, and Lance gulped, feeling sick as new anxiety pooled in his stomach. 

“Fuck.” he muttered dimly, not quite sure what he was saying. “He’s… he’s the guy who… fuck.”

“First of all, language.” Shiro said, giving Lance a half hearted glare that actually made his lip twice in amusement. “And second of all… fuck.”

“We can wait.” Pidge spoke up, but her voice was wobbly and uncertain. “We can wait to get Matt until he leaves.”

“No.” Keith said immediately with a scowl. “We’re not leaving Matt in there any longer than we have to. We’ll just avoid him.” 

However, even Keith didn’t look convinced by what he said, and he bit his lip. 

“Keith is right.” said Shiro, albeit a tad reluctantly. “We shouldn’t let this stop us from getting to Matt. We’ll do what Lance said, stick to the warehouse and avoid his section of the camp.”

“Ok.” Pidge said, but she didn’t look sure at all. Lance exchanged a nervous glance with Hunk, and Keith resumed his pacing. At this point he was starting to carve a little path through the dirt, and Shiro was watching him with concern, but he ignored the look. He just kept pacing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and trying his damn best not to hyperventilate. 

Anyone who knew him would have expected him to be boiling with rage. To be itching with the desire to hunt Lotor down and exact bloody revenge. But he didn’t feel that way. If anything, he was barely restraining himself from curling up into a ball somewhere and hiding like a scared animal. He felt hot shame crawl up his neck, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Lotor. Even now he could almost feel his breath on the back of his neck, his voice in his ear, and he was seconds away from crumbling for the millionth time. 

He was so caught up in his intense pacing he didn’t notice when Shiro got to his feet, or when he came closer. In fact, he didn’t notice him at all until his brother was catching him by the elbow, forcing him to stop walking.

“Hey, Keith.” he said quietly, giving Keith an intense look. “It’s going to be fine. Ok? I promise.”

Keith drew in a breath and held it, mentally counting down until his lungs burned. Shiro waited patiently, until Keith exhaled and gave him a shaky nod.

“Yeah, I know. It’s ok.”

Lance and Hunk were focused on the scene of brotherly love before them, so no one noticed when Pidge’s bottom lip began to tremble. She tried to lock it up, but a sniffle escaped, and instantly everyone was looking at her again.

“You know,” she said quickly, wiping at her eyes. “You guys don’t have to do this. I know you’re scared, and if we screw up- I just, I don’t want you guys to get hurt because of me.” 

“Pidge, I already told you.” Keith said testily, shaking his head. “We’re not just going to walk away and leave Matt.”

“But-”

“Pidge.” This time it was Shiro who spoke, and when she dared to glance at him, his face was firm. Kind, but firm. “Matt was my best friend before all of this happened. And we promised you at the Garrison that we wouldn’t stop until we helped you get him back. We meant that.”

“If you got hurt because of me,” Pidge hiccuped, the tears very close to spilling out now. “Or if Lotor… if he… I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.” 

Hunk wrapped his warm arms around her small frame, and she leaned into it, hiding her face as the tears finally snaked their way free. 

Then Lance approached from the other side. He was much scrawnier than Hunk, but his arms were long enough to wrap around both of them as he leaned his head on top of hers. 

“It’s ok, Pigeon.” he said quietly, with just a hint of humor. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

Dirt crunched under boots, and when Pidge wiped her eyes clear she was surprised to see Keith kneeling in front of their little sandwich. 

“We made our choice.” he said, eyes still and serious. “We’re in this together.”

Her vision clouded again, and she could barely see his surprised expression when her hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his hoodie. With a solid yank, she pulled him into their dogpile. Hunk immediately wrapped one of his arms around his shoulders, bringing him in so that Pidge could loop her arms around his neck. He was tense at first, but slowly, ever so slowly, he started to relax and hug Pidge back. 

“Come on, Shiro.” she called, her voice muffled into Keith’s chest. A moment later a fifth body joined in, making this officially a group hug.

It was the best hug she’d had in a long, long time. 

* * *

The desert was terrifying at night. Despite the several weeks they had spent traveling through it in the moonlight, all of them were still hyper aware of the dangers it posed. They watched where they stepped, eyes peeled for the hidden scorpion or snake. Chills ran down their spines at the screams of coyotes. The threat of the Galra pressed in on their skin and made their hair stand on end. The desert had kept them alive for a significant chunk of time, and it could just as easily destroy them.

But tonight the shadows weren’t frightening. Tonight the inky blackness of the new moon was secretive, protective, hiding them from prying eyes. For once the desert felt like it was on their side as the group snuck towards the Galra camp.

Hunk had elected to stay behind at the rendezvous point where they stashed their gear, not confident in his ability to be stealthy. Shiro had made subtle hints that the others should remain there as well and let him and Keith handle it, but Pidge was having none of it. 

_ “I’m going to get my brother.” she had insisted, eyes flashing with determination. _

_ “My gun will be too loud for this.” Lance had said with a shaky smile. “But I have a bow and  I wanna be useful. So I’m coming with.” _

And so the four of them crept towards the southern gate, melting into the darkness as if they were made of shadows. The gate had two light bulbs attached to the sides, which cast a dim yellow circle about twenty feet around their sources. There were two men posted there as Lance had said, but neither of them looked too interested in guarding the gate. One of them had sat down, pulling his knees to his chest and shivering angrily from the biting wind. The other was playing solitaire with a ragged deck of cards. 

Keith and Pidge split from the group right on the edge of the light’s border and scurried to either side. They crouched in the shadows, silent and waiting for Shiro’s signal. This was something else Shiro had volunteered to do, but once again Pidge had insisted. 

_ “I’m not some baby you need to protect.” _

The two lazy guards never saw them coming. One second he was playing solitaire, worrying the edges of the card with his fingers as he considered where to place it. And the next there were feet in front of him and a hand yanking his head up and an ice pick plunging into his eye socket. Another small hand clamped down over his mouth to smother his scream.

At the same moment Pidge struck, Keith shot forward out of his shadow and grabbed the other guard by the collar of his coat. He had him forced onto his back and stuck a knife in his throat before he could make a sound. 

Shiro and Lance emerged once the two guards had ceased twitching. Lance looked pale and was actively avoiding looking at the new red stains on Keith’s clothes, but he was keeping himself together, at least for now. Shiro pushed open the gate as quietly as he could manage, and the four of them slipped inside.

This end of the camp wasn’t very well lit beyond the gate, which worked well to the invaders advantage as they crept towards the warehouse. Apparently there wasn’t much to do in this area, as they didn’t come across a single Galra on their path. 

The lack of Galra presence was making Keith anxious. This had been far too easy so far, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Still, they didn’t have a choice. So he clutched his knife a little closer to his chest and kept going.

The warehouse was pretty close to the southern gate and they reached it fairly quickly with no incident. However, they came across a bit of a roadblock once they arrived.

It was locked. With five combination locks.

They looked flimsy and were all different colors, like the cheap ones you would buy for a middle school locker. But a lock was still a lock, and they couldn’t risk the noise of smashing them.

Lance laid a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. When he turned to look, Lance nodded towards the locks. Shiro got what he was trying to say and stepped to the side.

Lance moved forward and took the bottommost lock in hand, pressing it to his ear and closing his eyes as his chilled fingers slowly turned the dial. He stopped when he heard the telltale click, and turned it the other way. Another click. 

_ Almost there, almost… gotcha! _

He gave it a triumphant yank, and the lock opened. 

Shiro clapped his hand down on Lance’s shoulder, giving him a brilliant grin when Lance’s head snapped around. Pidge gave him a silent high five and even Keith looked grudgingly impressed. He repeated the process with the next four locks until they were all off of the large door, and they could finally begin opening it. It squeaked awfully, a terrible grinding sound that made all of them freeze up like frightened rabbits. But when it became clear no one else had heard the noise, Shiro finished cracking the door open and they all slid inside.

It was pitch black, the minimal ambient light from outside having little effect. Still Pidge pressed ahead without hesitation. Lance and Shiro followed while Keith loitered by the door, on edge and twitching. 

As their eyes adjusted to the increased darkness, they began to make out shapes. Lines of tables and machines filled the center floor of the warehouse in a haphazard pattern, the spaces in between shoved full of crates and boxes. For a moment they didn’t see any people, until Pidge poked closer to a corner and found them.

There were twenty prisoners in total, each one dressed in rags and laying on threadbare blankets lined up against the far left wall. Sleeping on the concrete floor couldn’t have been easy, but if any of them were still awake or had been awakened by the visitors, they gave no indication. 

“See him Pidge?” Lance whispered, and she shook her head in response with pursed lips. Taking a risk, she took a stealthy step towards one of the prisoners and laid her hand on their ankle. They jolted as though she had electrocuted them, and curled into a ball with a pathetic whimper. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Pidge hissed. “I’m just looking for someone. Matt Holt.”

“Where did you hear that name?” Another subdued voice cut through the still air of the warehouse, two blankets down from the person Pidge was talking to. The person didn’t come close enough for any of them to see their face. 

Despite Shiro’s warning grip on her shoulder, Pidge edged closer to the voice. 

“I’m his sister, Katie.” she answered as loudly as she dared. “Do you know him?”

There was a pause, in which the only sound was their labored breathing. And then…

“Katie? Is that really you?” The owner of the voice shuffled closer, and for the first time their face was discernable. 

“Matt!” Pidge whisper-screamed, throwing herself forward. The thin figure swayed on its heels, and then slowly wrapped her in its arms. 

Up close, it was undeniable they had found the person they were looking for. Matt Holt looked like a taller carbon copy of his little sister, right down to the auburn hair and amber eyes. He was terribly pale and emaciated (as far as they could tell in the dark), and he had hollows in his cheeks. But despite all of that and the tears in his eyes, he was smiling. 

He whispered her name over and over,  _ Katie? Katie? Katie?  _ As though he couldn’t quite believe it. Pidge pressed herself against his chest, clinging to him desperately with all of her limbs like a koala. The tears came fast, hard, and without abandon. 

The other prisoners began to stir and sit up, and Shiro was suddenly very aware of the commotion they were making. He hated to interrupt the heartwarming scene but time was running out.

“Pidge.” he murmured, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Come on, we gotta go.” 

Matt squinted at him through the darkness. “Shiro? What the-”

“Ok, not to be a jerk or anything,” Lance chimed in, leaning over Shiro’s shoulder, “But we should really leave. They’re gonna figure out we’re here eventually.”

Pidge extracted herself from her brother, hurriedly wiping her cheeks, but Matt grabbed for her wrist.

“Wait, we can’t leave everyone else here!” 

“Well get them up.” Shiro commanded, eyeing the door nervously. “We can’t stay much longer.”

As Matt and Shiro began rousing and reassuring the other prisoners, Lance found his way over to Keith, who was carefully peering out through the door with his knife, ready to pounce. 

“We need to get out of here.” he whispered urgently to Lance when he got close enough to hear. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his blade, and Lance frowned. This was definitely a stressful situation, but Keith looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack, shaking and pale and drenched in cold sweat.

“You ok?” Lance asked, glancing over his shoulder at the others. All of the other prisoners were awake, though some were still curled up on their blankets, too scared to move. Shiro and Matt were speaking to them in urgent whispers too quiet to hear. 

“No.” Keith admitted, his shoulders tensing even more. “This is too easy. The Galra are never this lax on security, especially if Lotor is here. Something isn’t right.” He lifted his other hand and tugged anxiously on his spiky ponytail. 

“Something isn’t right.” he repeated, a strange urgency in his voice.

“I believe you.” Lance murmured in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “Shiro and Matt are working as fast as they can. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I’m not worried about getting out.” hissed Keith, narrowing his eyes as he continued to scope out the area just outside the door. Before Lance could ask what he meant, Pidge was at his elbow, telling them they were ready to leave.

Carefully, with the prisoners behind them, they crept back out of the warehouse. They had barely all made it out before they were all freezing in place.

An alarm had just started blaring.

And they were utterly fucked. 


	11. Hunters and Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team makes a run for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

“Go!” Shiro shouted. “Get out of the gate and scatter!  _ Go!” _

Keith didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed the first person he could, which just so happened to be Lance, and took off towards the gate. The alarm blared in his ears, loud and insistent, and it almost made his vision blur when it hurt a certain pitch, but he kept going. Footsteps pounded on the ground, though who they belonged to was beyond him. 

They reached the gate within a minute and Keith shoved Lance out of it before turning to make sure they had everybody. Shiro passed him, and then there was Pidge hauling Matt along behind her. Clinging to Matt’s other wrist was one of the other prisoners, a tall man with an orange mustache. Right behind them was a Galra soldier.

Keith pulled his pistol from his waistband and fired. The first shot missed, but the second caught the man in the shoulder, and he went sprawling into the dirt screaming curses. 

“Come on!” Pidge cried shrilly as they passed, and Keith followed the three of them out of the gate. There were more Galra coming, and it would be easier to lose them in the dark if they split up. So once they were beyond the radius of the lights, Keith split off from the Holts, running in what he hoped was the vague direction of the meet up point. 

He ran as fast as he could, heart pounding in his chest and sweat accumulating under his hoodie. Cracks echoed across the desert. Keith’s throat closed when he recognized them as gunshots.

_ Keep going, keep running, find Shiro _ .

Far behind him was shouting, and then a low grumble as engines turned over. Shit, they had cars.

_ Hide _ .

He threw on the brakes suddenly, sliding in the loose dirt, and scrambled into the shadow of a large shrub. Thorns poked at his neck where the branches wrapped around, and he was pretty sure he had scraped his leg during his slide. But the adrenaline blocked out the pain.

He crouched there in the dark, desperately trying to quiet his breaths and keeping a firm hold on his pistol, finger tapping a staccato rhythm over the trigger. For a long moment everything was silent, the only sound the distant blaring of the Galra alarm and the cold wind through the branches of his hiding place. 

Then he heard it. The thud of boots on the ground, accompanied by heavy breathing. Keith went as still as his trembling muscles would allow and held his breath. 

“Keith?” someone hissed out of the darkness. “Keith? Shit, I could’ve sworn he came over here…”

Keith leapt from his bush, nearly making Lance scream, and latched onto his arm with a death grip.

“Are you an  _ idiot? _ Do you want to get caught??” He quickly swept the land with his gaze and off to the left spotted a Jeep armed with a spot light. Hissing a curse, he yanked Lance along behind him as he took off again.

The two boys wove their way through the bushes, carefully avoiding the roaming Jeeps. It took almost an hour of heartstopping close calls before they finally made it back to the rendezvous. 

As soon as they arrived Shiro yanked him into a bone crushing hug, while Hunk did the same to Lance. Keith leaned into the embrace, quickly doing a headcount over Shiro’s shoulder. They were all there, including Matt and the mustached man. 

“We need to keep moving.” Shiro said to all of them in a hoarse whisper, still not releasing Keith. “The Galra will be tracking us. We’ve gotta stay low and quiet and get the hell out of dodge.”

“Where are we going to go?” Pidge asked, still holding on to her brother.

“We could go south.” The mustached man spoke for the first time, and he had a strange accent. Maybe New Zealand? “Just below the state border is Voltron territory, we’ll be safe there.”

Shiro’s eyes met Keith’s. They both remembered.

“Good plan.” responded Shiro. “Let’s just hope we get that far.”

“What about the other prisoners?” asked Matt. “We can’t just leave them!”

“Matt, I’m sorry, but we really don’t have time to hunt them all down in the dark. Not without getting caught ourselves.” His arm tightened ever so slightly around Keith’s shoulders; the message was loud and clear.  _ I’m not going to let that happen _ .

“Ok.” Matt’s voice was resigned. 

“Alright, let’s go.”

Shiro looked up and studied the stars for a moment before turning south. He kept one arm around Keith’s shoulder as they walked, the group slipping into a two by two column as they went. 

“Are you ok?” Keith whispered to him, noting how Shiro’s fingers trembled. 

“Yeah.” Shiro breathed in response. “You just took awhile to get back, and I was worried.”

Keith squeezed his wrist wordlessly, and then silence reigned. 

* * *

Keith was the twitchiest the others had ever seen him. Even after hours of walking he constantly paced between the group and a good distance behind, scoping out for pursuers. When he checked back with them, he twitched incessantly. Pulling on his hair, sheathing and unsheathing his knife, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles until the skin was red and irritated. His entire body screamed at him to stop, rest, sleep, but his brain whispered  _ danger danger danger  _ on a neverending loop. 

The others weren’t much better. They marched two by two through the desert, the sky lightening off to their left as they continued south. Pidge hadn’t released her hold on her brother since she had first set eyes on him, switching between holding onto his wrist and the edge of his shirt. Matt and Coran (the mustached man) had been weak to begin with, and now were so pale and off-balance Keith expected them to collapse at any moment. 

Lance and Hunk walked together, taking turns leaning on each other to ease the ache in their feet. Occasionally they murmured softly to each other, but for the most part their march was silent besides the howl of the wind. 

Eyeing the rising sun, Keith looped back towards the others. The fingers clenched around his bat burned from the cold, while the others shoved into his hoodie pocket burned where he had rubbed his knuckles raw. The side of his leg still tingled from where he had torn open the skin, but the cold had long since numbed it to a bearable level. 

“Shiro,” he murmured, falling into step beside him. “The sun’s coming up.”

“I know.” His brother replied, rolling his shoulders. “We’re going to lose the cover of darkness soon. We need to find a place to hunker down.” 

“Look over there.” Keith pointed to the west, and in the slowly gaining light, Shiro caught sight of what looked like a housing development tucked up against a low hill. It was one of those neighborhoods built a few miles away from a city to incentivise it to continue growing.. Now it was probably empty and crawling with Z’s, but it provided a safe place to hide from the roar of those Jeep engines that always seemed to lurk just out of sight. 

“Good idea, Keith.” he said. “Let’s get over there before Lance passes out.”

“‘M good!” Lance exclaimed from the back of their group. “Hunky dory!” 

Keith wanted to laugh, but couldn’t seem to muster up the energy. So instead he held his bat between his elbow and his side and checked out his knife. It was still coated in rusty bloodstains, and he would have cleaned it off if all of his clothes hadn’t been equally coated in blood. He sheathed it again, patted his waistband to make sure he still had his pistol, and then was satisfied.

“Remember guys.” Shiro said, speaking to all of them now. “We need to go in low and quiet. No guns, making noise will draw in the Z’s and the Galra.”

“Sir yes sir.” Answered Matt with just the slightest hint of humor. Rising sun at their backs, they headed for the housing development. 

As expected, the neat parallel streets of the neighborhood were empty excepting the Z’s. This time there were walkers, the slower ones who tended to bunch. They were caught partway between being biters and clickers, too grown over to move quickly but not handicapped enough to use echolocation. So mostly they drifted around, staring listlessly at nothing with their gummy eyes while orange fungus slowly crept across their skin. 

Thankfully for their little group, the walkers didn’t seem to be bunching too much. There were a few groups of 4 or 5, but mostly they wandered alone, staggering in small circles like a video game enemy programmed not to go beyond a certain boundary. 

Shiro sent Lance and Keith up ahead to clear a pathway for the rest of them. With their combined ranged and melee, they made short work of the slower Z’s. They also took little detours, killing Z’s in other parts of the neighborhood so that the Galra couldn’t follow the trail of corpses. Shiro made them go several blocks in before letting them stop, and by the time they did Keith’s knees were trembling. 

The house Shiro chose was a modest two story, with what had probably been white clapboards once upon a time. Now they were browned and drooping, and the porch nearly buckled when they crossed over it to enter. Inside were only three Z’s, easy enough to dispatch. 

The carpet and wallpaper on the interior weren’t in much better condition than the outside, stained and peeling. But to their little group, who hadn’t seen a proper house in god knows how many months, it almost seemed like a palace.

It was surprisingly well preserved, chock full of salvageable supplies, but right now their number one priority was getting some goddamned sleep. A quick exploration of the upstairs revealed two bedrooms, one with a king bed and the other with a twin. Matt and Pidge shoved their skinny bodies up next to each other in the twin, surrounded by the childish posters of space that layered the walls of the room. Lance, Hunk, and Keith made it work on the king bed, while Coran stretched out on the downstairs couch. Shiro had insisted on taking first watch and wouldn’t take no for an answer, and now paced around the house. 

He closed every curtain that remained, and carefully positioned any remaining furniture in front of windows that lacked them. Then he did a lap of the house, then another one, then began stacking nonperishable food in his backpack. He was in the kitchen, testing if by some miracle the house still had water, when he heard a step on the tile behind him. 

“You should get some sleep, my boy.” said the ginger haired man they had rescued along with Matt. “I can take next watch.”

Every muscle he had shrieked at him to accept, but he plastered a frown to his lips. He knew he needed to sleep, but the protective part of his brain was petrified of the idea. 

To avoid answering the question, he moved to a nearby window and ever so slightly moved the curtain aside, studying the sunlit street beyond. He had been standing there for nearly a minute, eyes unfocused and looking at nothing, when a movement at the end of the street made them sharpen. His heart dropped into his boots when a black Galra Jeep turned the corner.

“Get down!” he hissed, lunging for Coran and dragging them both to the floor. They both laid on the cold tile for a nerve wracking moment, listening to the vehicle rumble past. As soon as it cleared the house, Shiro began army crawling to the stairs, staying well below the windows. 

_ Gotta get everyone up, we have to go. _

In the master bedroom, Keith stirred at the sound of an engine. His eyes cracked open just in time to see Shiro pushing his way into the other bedroom and felt the hairs on his arms stand up under his hoodie.

He immediately sat up and reached for Lance’s shoulder. 

“Lance.” he hissed, shaking him. Lance just groaned and pressed closer to Hunk. “Lance!”

“ _ What? _ What do you want, Mullet?” Lance barely turned and peered at him grumpily, but that was the last thing on Keith’s mind at the moment. 

“Something’s wrong.” He rolled off of the lumpy aged mattress and scooped up his backpack and bat while Lance tried to wake Hunk. Shiro appeared in the doorway, and the tight line of his jaw made Keith’s stomach clench.

“Galra caught up with us.” Shiro murmured, voice tight and controlled. “We’ve gotta move.” 

Pidge and her brother emerged into the hallway behind him, rushing down the stairs as quietly as possible. Keith finished adjusting his bag and followed. They hadn’t had nearly enough time or rest, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it. 

_ Just keep going _ . 

They gathered in the living room, carefully avoiding the windows. Lance and Hunk stumbled down the stairs, still rubbing sleep from their eyes, but they didn’t have time to wait for them to wake up. Shiro herded them towards the back door. 

They waited anxiously for the sound of the Jeep to fade completely and then they all sprinted across the backyard to the cinderblock wall that separated the cookie cutter suburban houses. One by one they hopped over into the next yard, Pidge insistently pushing away Hunk’s boost and scrambling over herself. 

The yard they ended up in had 5 Z’s standing around in it. They  lurched around to face them and began stumbling forward. 

Shiro shoved Matt and Coran behind him, snapping a warning for them to stay behind him. Hunk, Keith, and Pidge sprung to action, wielding their knives (and ice picks) while Lance and Shiro stayed back to protect the other two. 

Pidge made a beeline for the closest Z. It opened its arms wide, trying to catch her, but she ducked down and between it’s legs. The slow thing didn’t even have time to comprehend where she had gone before she was jumping up, wrapping an arm around its neck, and burying her pick in the back of it’s skull. 

As she tumbled down to the ground with the corpse, Hunk charged past. There were two Z’s just behind them, and he took them both on. His knife cleaved cleanly into the brain of one, which he then threw into the other to make it stumble and give him the opportunity to finish it off as well. 

Keith darted to the left, bringing his bat down against the side of a Z’s head. It gave a sickening crunch and crumbled, but before Keith could turn the last Z slammed into his side. They both fell, and Keith managed to grab onto its shoulders and hold it back. 

It snapped its teeth like an alligator, it’s bent and chipped fingernails leaving red welts across his throat, but it still couldn’t quite reach him. With his bat out of reach, they were locked into a stalemate. If he let go he’d be bitten and if he didn’t he couldn’t kill it. 

Out of the corner of his eye he barely caught a flash of blue jeans. Then a brown hand was scooping up his bat, and Lance knocked the Z off of him with a practiced swing. The Z snarled once, but laid still, it’s black blood running into the yellow lawn. Extending a hand, Lance hauled Keith back to his feet, and the group continued on their way.

Shiro had them go three houses up the street, then 2 streets further down before they ducked into another dilapidated house. This one had three stories, the outlier of the neighborhood, and several bedrooms. The group scattered again to crash.

Lance turned to follow Hunk upstairs, but paused at the foot of them when he noticed Keith still standing in the center of the living room. He looked dead on his feet, but still fidgeted and tapped his bat against the leg of an end table. 

“You still have grass all over you.” Lance informed the other boy. Keith brushed some of the yellow fibers off of his hoodie, but the movement was absentminded. His gaze was locked on Shiro, who was pacing the length of the house, pulling curtains closed and barricading doors.

“Go to bed, Lance.” he said shortly. Before Lance could answer he was going after Shiro, their conversation forgotten. Lance just rolled his eyes and continued up the stairs.

* * *

It was only a few hours later when the growl of Jeep engines drove them to move hideouts once again. To Keith, something didn’t feel quite right. The Galra were just patrolling the streets, not searching in any of the houses or even getting out of their vehicles. It was like they were just going for a relaxing afternoon drive instead of hunting down escaped prisoners.

By the time the sun went down they were in their fourth house, this one a small one bedroom sat on a corner. Once it was dark the sound of engines ceased and the majority of the group began to relax. All except Keith and Shiro.

“They could’ve swept the entire neighborhood by now.” Shiro muttered, anxiously tapping an index finger against his temple. “All they’ve done is established a perimeter.”

“They’re trapping us in.” Keith answered with a scowl. “Lotor likes to play with his food before he eats it.”

“We’ll be fine.” Hunk jumped in from where he was laying on the floor. Lance had taken the couch and had already passed out. Pidge and Matt were curled up together on a recliner, Coran on the matching one. They’d collectively decided to give the one bed to Shiro, who still hadn’t slept. 

“You need to get some sleep.” He continued tiredly to Shiro. 

“He’s right.” Keith murmured, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “You do. I’ll take watch.”

“Keith-”

“No arguing.” Keith’s face was like stone. “Go to bed.”

Shiro grumbled, but he went anyway, leaving Keith to pace the living room until it was Hunk’s turn for watch.

* * *

This went on for days. The Galra didn’t search at night, but during the day they patrolled the streets, forcing the team to move houses when they got too close. They were slowly herding them into an ever smaller area in the center of the neighborhood. Every few hours they would be awakened and made to endure the adrenaline rush of fighting more Z’s and finding a new hiding place. Once they did the crash would wreak havoc. 

By the fourth day they were all coming apart. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance were dead exhausted and none of them could handle taking watch, the stress making their shoulders slouch. Matt found sleeping impossible with the threat of recapture hanging over his head. Shiro was a nervous wreck, constantly pacing and checking and rechecking windows. And Keith was seething. 

“He’s toying with us!” he exclaimed on the fourth night, slamming the side of his fist against the wall and leaving a dent. “He knows exactly where we are, but he’s going to force us to walk right into his trap.”

“I know.” Shiro responded, voice thin with exhaustion. “But we don’t have a choice.”

“I’m not going back.” Keith muttered, his arm twitching as he restrained himself from punching the wall again. 

“Hey, look what I found!” Lance’s voice called excitedly from the kitchen. He popped out a moment later, brandishing a bottle triumphantly.

“Is that-” Keith began.

“Whiskey?” Shiro finished, eyes widening in a comical matter.

Lance nodded, a brilliant grin spread across his face. “Something to take the edge off, ya know?”

“Lance, no, you can’t-”

“Why not, Shiro? Are the zombie police going to come and arrest me for underage drinking?”

“What if Galra come?” That question came from Keith, who was glowering at the other boy. 

“They never do sweeps at night.” Lance shot back. “What, are you gonna try to stop me, Mullet?”

The two stared at each other for long moment, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits on both sides. Eventually Keith looked away.

“Fine.” he muttered. “It’s your funeral.”

Lance’s grin returned, but it looked a little emptier. 

“Anyone else want some?”

“Count me in.” said Matt, to everyone’s collective surprise. He flushed under their intense stares. “What? I just want to get some sleep.”

“I’ll have some.” Pidge said timidly, tucking her hand into Matt’s elbow. “Just to relax.”

“Just a little bit.” Hunk decided, taking a step closer. He was eying the bottle warily, but it seemed his stress was overtaking his caution.

Lance looked at Coran, who held up a hand.

“None for me, thanks. I’ll take first watch so Shiro and Keith here can rest.”

Keith was still standing there, arms crossed and glaring as the others settled onto the living room floor and cracked open the bottle. Shiro snagged his arm. 

“Come on.” he whispered, purposefully blocking his view. “Let’s go upstairs.” 

Keith let his brother tug him away, but it didn’t stop his stomach from twisting when he thought of what the others were doing. Getting drunk while they were actively being hunted down was probably the stupidest thing he could imagine. 

Shiro and him shared the queen bed in what used to be the master bedroom. Keith’s exhaustion dragged him into sleep quickly, but the visions that greeted him there were far from peaceful. 

 

_ He was pinned against the wall, the stinking breath of a Galra soldier wafting over his face. One arm across his chest to keep him down, the soldier brought up his other hand and grabbed Keith by the jaw, forcing it open. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t fight back as another hand came from nowhere and shoved something under his tongue. Before he could spit it out, a strip of duct tape was plastered over his mouth, and in the next moment he was forced into a tiny dark room. A door slammed behind him, and there was a click as a lock turned. Then he was alone. _

_ The tablet in his mouth was powdery and bitter. He breathed in deeply through his nose, trying not to be afraid. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t kill him. Lotor liked screwing with him too much.  _

_ He leaned back against the wall, carefully arranging his bound arms. It was pitch black in the room, not even a slit of light to indicate where the door was, and even when his eyes adjusted all he could see was darkness. That is, until the tablet kicked in, and with a sinking heart Keith realized what it was. _

_ The shadows began to writhe, twisting across the concrete floor to coil up his ankles. When he looked up from them, faces floated in the air before him. His, Shiro’s, parents. Smiling at him gently. Then he blinked, and their faces were twisted in agony, wounds leaking blood and eyes empty.  _

_ At first he was able to bite back the little sounds he made in fear. For the first few hours it was manageable, even when he felt his flesh slough off or when he saw Shiro slumped in the corner, beaten and bloody. Things became decidedly less easy to handle when he felt hands on him. Pudgy hands, burning hot against his skin, the same ones he felt in his nightmares. That’s when he started screaming. _

_ The trip had barely ended before he was being blinded by sudden light as another tablet was forced into him, pushing him down the rabbit hole once more. The third time they poured a glass of water down his throat along with the drugs.  _

_ It was the third day in the closet and the fifth tablet when Keith forgot his name. Even the burning in his shoulders and the irritation of adhesive over his lips had faded away into the darkness of the room. Nothing was real except the darkness. Nothing existed except the darkness.  _

_ The screams from his terrible visions had long since ceased, and now the only sound was his heavy breathing and the occasional whimper. If he slept he didn’t know it. Everything was the same. Everything was the darkness. And the darkness was nothing. _

_ Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. _

_ The trip wasn’t over when the door opened, and the sudden light and the thump of boots on the floor sent him into a panic. He dug his heels into the concrete, trying to push himself away as tears blurred his vision, but they caught him anyway. The feeling of rough hands was so real it hurt, and despite the insistent pain in his throat, he screamed. He was too weak and afraid to fight them, and they dragged him from the closet and back towards the torture room that he couldn’t remember.  _

_ That was the pattern. At least, that’s what Shiro said the pattern was. Three days in the closet, just long enough for Keith to lose reality, and then a week out of it.  _

_ It only happened twice more before Keith began to long for the arena. _

 

The only silver lining he could find when he awoke was that he hadn’t woken up screaming. Shiro still slept calmly beside him. But he was coated in cold sweat and there was no way he would be able to sleep again that night. So he carefully extracted himself from his brother and made his way downstairs, illusions still dancing on the back of his eyelids. 

He was rather displeased to find the living room a pile of sleeping bodies, including Coran who was supposed to have taken watch. He had nodded off against the wall, Matt stretched out at his feet. Hunk lay on his back nearby with Pidge draped over his chest as he snored. 

A shape stirred against the wall, and only then Keith realized not everyone was asleep. Lance was still awake, just barely, blearily watching a tiny amount of brown liquid as he swished it around in the bottom of the bottle.

“Did you guys drink that whole thing?” 

Lance’s head jerked up, then sank back down when he recognized Keith. 

“Yeah.” he mumbled. “Pidge and Matt aren’t as lightweight as they look.” 

Stepping carefully across the darkened room, Keith settled down next to Lance, wrinkling his nose at the stink of alcohol coming off of him.

“Why’re you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Keith answered, drawing up his knees. 

“Sure you don’t want any?”

“I’m sure.”

There was silence for a long moment. The house protected them from the wind, but the temperature was still quite low, and Keith huddled into his hoodie, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. Eventually he couldn’t resist speaking. 

“It’s going to be over soon.”

“Whaddya mean?” Lance slurred. 

“This. The running and hiding. Lotor likes to play games, but he’s impatient too. He’s not going to wait much longer before cornering us.”

“Oh.”

The words burned at the back of Keith’s throat. He had to make Lance understand before it all happened, so that he wouldn’t be sad. 

“I’m not going back.”

“Going back where?”

“To the Galra.” 

Lance stilled next to him, but he didn’t say anything, so Keith kept going.

“When they catch us, I’m not going to let them take me back. I’ll make them kill me. Or I’ll-”

“Don’t say that.” Lance’s voice was choked with a surprising amount of emotion. “Don’t say it. We’re not going to get caught. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Keith let out a hollow laugh, the sound echoing in his lungs. “We are going to get caught, Lance. There’s no alternative. There’s no way we get out of this without getting caught. There’s no way I get out of this al-”

“Stop.” Lance’s hand landed on his knee and squeezed, hard. His other hand was still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, but he had stopped swirling it.

“We’re not going to let him hurt you again. You heard Pidge.”

“I just told you so you would take care of Shiro.” Keith muttered, staring into the shadowy corners of the room. “I didn’t mean for you to try and-”

“Shut up, Mullet. We’re not letting you die and that’s final.”

Keith just sighed and leaned his head against his knees, forcing Lance to remove his hand. 

_ Maybe if I’m lucky he won’t remember this tomorrow.  _


	12. Sweet, Sweet Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor catches up.

True to Keith’s prediction, the Galra stepped it up the next day. The patrols kept coming sooner and sooner, until Jeeps were driving by every five minutes. There wasn’t enough time to run. All they could do was stay put, and hide, and hope. Of course this was the apocalypse, and hope currently amounted to jack shit.

It didn’t take long before there were boots outside and voices on the air. But they were ready, all hidden and armed. Matt and Coran were tucked safely away upstairs, armed with kitchen knives. Keith pressed himself against the wall next to the back door, while Shiro hid next to the front. Pidge had been small enough to stow herself in an overhead kitchen cabinet, and Lance and Hunk had squeezed into the coat closet. 

“Maybe if they think it’s just me and Keith left, they’ll leave the others alone.” Shiro had suggested. 

Keith hoped he was right. 

The Galra had the house surrounded, and now footsteps approached both entrances simultaneously. Keith and Shiro tensed up, their eyes meeting across the empty expanse of floor between them. The doors opened.

Keith swung his bat, feeling the shock of impact shudder up his arms. Blood spurted from the Galra’s broken nose and he fell to his knees, clutching at it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one coming through the door. He was backed up by another, much bigger and beefier. 

Keith darted to his other side and swung, trying to catch him off guard. It didn’t work. The Galra caught the bat with one hand, and with a flick of his wrist jerked it from Keith’s grip and sent it clattering to the floor. Keith immediately pulled his knife and lunged for the man's throat. 

Barely seeming bothered he caught Keith’s wrist and with a massive amount of strength, swung him around and slammed him into the wall. His breath left him in a whoosh and before he could retaliate the man pinned his wrist down against the counter and squeezed until his fingers released the blade. 

His attackers other hand rose and Keith was certain he was about to be strangled. Instead, the man grinned at him, cold blue eyes flashing, and grabbed hold of his stubby ponytail. With a hard wrench, he slammed Keith’s head into the counter. 

Stars exploded behind his eyelids. He felt his knees knock into the floor when he fell, something dripping down his forehead.

_ Blood. Probably.  _

He probably would have crumbled to the floor if the Galra hadn’t grabbed him again, this time by his hood. Keith reached behind him, his fingers just brushing the cold metal of his pistol before the Galra yanked it away from him. 

_ Well, I’m fucked.  _

He heard the pistol hit the ground a few feet away, and then he was being dragged. He scrambled to find purchase, but the tiles were slick with blood and the world was still spinning around him and the Galra seemed hell bent on keeping him off balance anyway.

The heels of his boots sunk into carpet. The Galra threw him, and he felt the rug burn on his palms when he landed next to Shiro, who had been similarly roughed up and was now being held at gunpoint by two more men. 

“We found the two you were looking for, sir.” Someone said, just out of Keith’s (admittedly blurry) sight. 

“Keep searching the house.” replied a bored voice. “There were more, and they must be around here somewhere.”

That voice. He knew that voice. 

Bile rose in the back of his throat, and only sheer determination kept it there. He reached blindly for Shiro, only to have his hand kicked away. 

“Don’t move.” hissed one of the Galra in an ugly voice. Keith let his arm drop. 

The Galra fanned through the house. Pidge curled up tighter in her cabinet, having heard the man’s words and knowing Shiro and Keith had been caught. She’d heard Keith’s struggle too, the awful sound when something hit the counter, and felt sick thinking about it. The second any Galra fucker dared to open that cabinet door, she was going to-

Light poured suddenly into her eyes, making her freeze for a split second before seeing the yellow teeth of a smiling Galra beneath her. Before he could reach up, she rolled herself off of the shelf, dropping down on his head.

Her pick was in just the right place, driving down between the plates of his skull and deep into his brain. They both tumbled to the ground with a huge clatter and she scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, leaving her pick in the man’s head and pulling the coil of wire from her sock. 

Ducking behind the nearest wall, she held her breath and waited. As she expected, another man came into the kitchen to investigate the sound, and as soon as he was in front she leapt, looping the wire around his throat and pulling back on it with all of her bodyweight.

He choked and sputtered for a moment, reeling backwards and clutching at his neck. But her moment of victory was short lived as he lurched forward, dragging her up and over his back, and then slammed her up against the wall. 

She tried to hold on, but after three such slams she found her fingers loosening enough for the Galra to hurl her over his head. She flew, literally  _ flew _ , into the opposite wall, landing limply with a pained cry.

She was tossed over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and a moment later was deposited unceremoniously onto the floor beside Keith and Shiro. Shiro had purple and black bruises forming on his face. Keith had a nasty cut over his eyebrow. Both of them looked about ready to die. 

Across the living room, one of them finally thought to open the coat closet. And was immediately tackled by Hunk. Lance, emerging after him, instantly caught a fist to the jaw. The Galra who had hit him snagged the back of his jacket before he could fall and yanked him back, indulging himself in a few more solid hits before stripping Lance of his weapons. 

Hunk had been having more success, until three more ganged up on him. He was strong, but not that strong.

Keith heard thumping noises from above him, and a minute or so later Matt and Coran were hauled downstairs. The Galra escorting them had a few cuts to show for their troubles, but in the end all of their fighting hadn’t done anything. They were all here, sat on the floor surrounded by armed Galra with nothing to do and no way out.

They still hadn’t seen Lotor, and Keith thought that was pretty scary. But it was nothing compared to when he finally strode into the room. 

He still had that infuriating long blonde hair and insufferable smirk, though the latter was marred by the scar Keith had given him during their last escape. His purple Galra brand stood out brilliantly from his pale skin, his almost yellow eyes pierced like needles. As soon as Keith saw him, everything drained away, leaving only cold. 

“It’s so nice to see you again, my little lost puppies.” Lotor crooned in a sickly sweet voice. Keith swayed. Even though he was pale, Shiro clenched his jaw and glared as best he could. Which of course only made Lotor chuckle. 

“And look, you even brought me some new toys.”

“No.” Shiro snarled, shuffling in front of the others. “You’re not touching them.”

“No.” Lotor agreed, tapping a long finger against a sharp jaw. “Not yet. You two were very bad the last time we met, and you still haven’t been punished yet.”

He turned to face one of his men, hair swishing over his hips, and just for a moment Keith caught sight of a pistol tucked into a holster there. 

“Go get my things from the Jeep.” Lotor snapped. “Quickly.” The Galra he had addressed scampered out the door, and Lotor’s sick grin returned.

“You first.” he decided, nodding to Keith. “You always were my favorite.”

Upon hearing those words, Keith should have panicked. He should have kicked and screamed and fought until the guards were forced to put a bullet in his head, just like he had promised himself he would. But now all he felt was calm. 

_ I’m not going back.  _ He thought dreamily, barely aware of Pidge clinging to him while Shiro tried to protest.  _ And I’m taking him with me. _

He barely saw the gun that pointed itself at him. Pidge’s fingers trembled, but she didn’t move until Keith brushed her off.

“Keith-”

“It’s gonna be ok, Pidge.” he murmured, voice distant. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

Lotor smirked and crooked a finger at him, and he rose to his feet. Shiro reached out for him, but he shook him off.

“It’s gonna be fine.” he promised again. 

Lotor looked utterly delighted by this turn of events. “Being obedient now isn’t going to make me go easy on you.” he said playfully, reaching out to take the duffel bag the Galra had returned with. Keith didn’t answer. Setting the pack on a nearby chair, he dug through it for a moment, looking to all the world like a demented Mary Poppins. He finally emerged with a switchblade and his favorite whip.

Keith felt rather than saw Shiro’s violent flinch, but he didn’t react. He was familiar with this one. It looked small and unassuming, but the tip was razor thin and left wounds that didn’t heal for weeks. He really should have been afraid at this point. He wasn’t. All he felt was cold. 

“Come here.” ordered Lotor, tapping the whip against his boot. Keith went. If he’d looked back, he would’ve seen the others watching with pale, terrified, tear streaked faces. But he didn’t.

Lotor huffed when Keith got close, bringing up his switchblade to cut off Keith’s hoodie.

“I’m not sure if I like this new obedience.” Lotor said, almost conversationally as he let the tip of his knife barely graze his collarbone. “It was much more fun when you tried to fight.”

What remained of his hoodie fell to the carpet in red tatters. Keith felt goosebumps rise on his arms, but he still didn’t answer. His gaze was locked evenly onto Lotor’s face. It wasn’t a brave look, or a defiant one. It was simply empty. 

His tanktop was next, and then Lotor tossed the blade back into the bag. 

“I didn’t leave you with nearly enough scars to remember me by.” he mused, whip tapping against his boot. “Let’s remedy that, shall we?”

Keith turned when Lotor pressed his shoulder, and one of the Galra nudged over an old dusty coffee table. Lotor forced him to his knees in front of it, and then pressed a cold hand between his shoulder blades to make him bend. He gripped the edge tightly, staring down at the stained carpet rather than look up at his friends faces. 

_ It's gonna be fine. _

There was little preamble. One second he was fine and the next there was a thin slice of opened flesh across the small of his back. The snap of the whip came a half second after the pain, and his hiss a half second after that. The only sound was the crack of the whip over his back and the sounds of pain he desperately tried to hold back, but the longer it went on the less effective it became. 

The lashes burned hot, warm blood dripped down his back, and he had lost track of the number of hits some time ago. Over the crackle of the whip he could barely hear someone crying. It could have been Pidge, but it could have also been Hunk or even Lance for all he could tell. 

_ Don’t cry. It’s gonna be fine. _

Up until now, Lotor had been layering parallel stripes up his back, working towards the nape of his neck. This time he changed the angle, and this lash ripped over the other cuts in the center of his back, following the curve of his spine. That’s when he let out a yell, unable to hold the sound back any longer. Lotor, spurred on by his reaction, did it twice more in quick succession. One on each side of his spine. 

Tears burned at the back of Keith’s eyes, but he was still calm; as calm as he could be. He felt the pain, but it was distant, unreal. He was ready, lying in wait, anticipating that moment when-

Lotor buried his fingers into his hair, wrenching his head up. 

“Look at your brother.” he hissed into his ear. 

Shiro was crying. He hadn’t seen Shiro cry in a long time, but he was now, eyes red rimmed and shining in desperation. The tears ran over the swollen purple bruises and dripped off his chin, falling into the carpet. 

“Stop.” he choked out. “Stop it. Leave him alone.”

Lotor just snickered and pressed closer to Keith, the fabric of his shirt chaffing and stinging at the open wounds. But that was exactly what Keith wanted. Closer, just a little closer, and-

He felt Lotor’s muscles tighten when he wrapped his palm around the grip of the gun. 

Lotor wasn’t fast enough to stop him, and in seconds Keith had him on the floor. There wasn't time for dramatic speeches, or witty quips, or bargaining. Keith barely saw Lotor’s pupils go to pinpricks before he was shoving the barrel of the gun between his teeth and pulling the trigger.

The explosive shot echoed through the whole neighborhood, leaving a cold silence in its wake. Even the other Galra didn't seem to know what to do, just standing there and staring at their leader's corpse.

Keith sat there, breathing hard, blood splatter cooling on his cheeks. Trembling, he got to his feet. Still none of the Galra moved to stop him as he leveled the gun at Lotor once more. 

_ Bang _

_ Bang _

_ Bang _

_ Bang _

_ Bang _

_ Click _

Keith pulled the trigger a few more times, but the gun just clicked it's hollow refusal at him until he finally tossed it aside. 

Lotor had five more bullet holes in his torso now, each pitifully dribbling blood while he gaped sightlessly at the ceiling. He was much less intimidating this way. 

The stunned silence stretched a moment longer, and then one of the Galra let out an animalistic growl. He made to raise his own gun at Keith, but Shiro tackled him at the waist, and all hell broke loose.

There was shouting and fighting all around him, but Keith didn't acknowledge any of it. He sank to his knees at Lotor’s feet, just staring and staring. It was over, but the cold feeling didn't leave him. It was over, he was dead, he would never go back, so why did he still feel cold?

He had no idea how long he sat there. Everything was a blur. 

“Keith!”

The hands on his shoulders yanked him harshly back to reality, finally making him look away from Lotor. Shiro was there, tears still drying on his cheeks. More warm bodies pressed close around the two of them, ones Keith couldn’t identify.

“Holy fuck.” An unknown voice breathed from behind him. “His back.”

Just then all of the pain crashed down like a wave, and Keith crumbled forward against Shiro’s chest with a barely audible whimper. 

“Shiro, we can’t stay here.” Said another voice. “The rest of them will come looking eventually.”

“We can’t move him like this!”

There were far too many voices. Keith fisted his hands into Shiro’s shirt. 

“Ok, ok.” Shiro’s chest rumbled under his cheek when he spoke, the low pitch warm and comforting. 

“Pidge, Hunk, Lance, head outside and clear out any Z’s that were drawn in by the noise. Keith’s bat is in the kitchen still, you can use that Lance. Coran, get some of the strips from Keith’s shirt and get them wet with clean water. Matt, go to my backpack and get the medical supplies.”

The group scattered, unable to argue with Shiro when he used that tone. As soon as they were gone, Shiro pulled back a little and looked down.

“Keith? You with me?”

Keith nodded.

“Ok, good. I’m going to move you, ok? We need to clean your back before we can leave.”

“‘M fine.” Keith mumbled, though he let Shiro nudge him into position. “We should go, before they come back.” He was now laying on his stomach, his head resting against Shiro’s knee while he ran his fingers through Keith’s hair.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Shiro murmured to him. There was a little catch in his voice that made Keith frown to himself. His unspoken question was answered when Shiro continued, “What were you thinking? They could have killed you.”

Keith made to shrug, but thought better of it at the last moment and remained still. 

“I told you, I wasn’t going back.”

“Jesus.” was all Shiro could say before Coran returned with the wet cloth. Keith flinched at the slight sting, but Shiro held his hand, and Coran was as gentle as he could be as he wiped away the blood.

Matt returned soon after, armed with two bottles of peroxide.

“I found one of these in the house.” he said by way of explanation, kneeling down next to the trio. 

“Sit up, Keith.” Shiro said, carefully assisting him as he obeyed. “This is going to sting.”

Keith gripped Shiro’s shoulders tightly and braced himself, but the expected pain never came as Matt held the bottle out of Shiro’s reach.

“Hold on,” he said, “Just one second.” He scurried over to the remains of Keith’s hoodie, Shiro and Coran watching him with interest, and scooped up a strip of the red fabric. By the time he returned to the other side of the room he’d folded it into a small square, which he held out to Keith.

“Bite down.” he instructed, face set in stone. “This is going to hurt, and the last thing the others need is more zombies being drawn in.”

Keith eyed it warily, but only hesitated for a moment before doing what Matt said. And he was glad he did, because as soon as the peroxide touched the first gash he was digging his teeth into it in a terrible grimace. 

Shiro didn’t look like he was having any easier of a time as Keith’s fingertips squeezed bruises into his shoulders. The cleaning fluid dripped down to the second wound and his muscles began to tremble. He barely restrained himself from flinching away when Matt kept pouring. 

Shiro tried to whisper encouragement to him past the lump in his throat, but if Keith even heard him it didn’t seem to help at all. He just pressed his face into the crook of Shiro’s neck and bit down on the fabric, trying to smother the pathetic whimpers. 

Keith’s world was a blur of pain and disjointed sounds when Matt finally stopped. He was dimly aware that he was gripping onto Shiro with enough force to break bones and somewhere far away something soft was being pressed to the blazing inferno that was his back. 

There was a creak of hinges and a crowd of footsteps from his left and, for a moment, he tensed up against Shiro. 

“Not Galra.” his brother told him soothingly. “It’s just Pidge and Lance and Hunk.”

“Hey Mullet.” said a familiar voice. “How’re the battle wounds?”

With great effort, Keith turned his head and looked at him. Lance’s forced smile faltered when he saw the red fabric clenched between his teeth, until Keith reached up and pulled it out.

“Fine.” he croaked, mouth tasting of cotton. A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips. “‘Tis but a flesh wound.”

Lance’s laugh came out choked, but it was still miles better than the bereaved expressions on the faces of Pidge and Hunk.

“You’re an idiot.” Pidge hiccuped, dragging a sleeve across her eyes, and Keith realized she was near tears. “A stupid, reckless idiot. You know that?”

Hunk strode across the room before Keith could answer, clothes and face alike spattered with black blood. He had a scrape across his cheekbone, a little pink dot across the brown of his skin.

“Let me see his back.” he barked, shoving Matt aside. Keith held very still, feeling Hunk’s warm breath on the back of his neck before he grunted and sat back. 

“He needs more bandages here.” Hunk said to Matt. “To keep the dirt out.” 

Soft bandages began winding around his stomach, only hurting a little where they pressed against the wounds. But despite Matt’s acquiescence, Hunk wasn’t finished mothering. 

“It’s not getting any warmer out there. He’s going to need something to wear before we go anywhere.”

Lance made a little sound, scurrying over to where his backpack rested against the wall. The Galra luckily hadn’t rifled through their things, so he found what he was looking for easily, emerging with his blue and green flannel. 

“You are  _ not  _ turning me into a hipster.” Keith deadpanned, and Lance responded with an eye roll.

“Just pretend it’s grunge or something.” He tossed the shirt to Shiro. 

He pulled it carefully over Keith’s shoulders, buttoning it up the front. Lance was bigger than him so the shirt hung a little loosely, but at least that way it wouldn’t rub up against the bandages as much. 

“That’s not enough.” Hunk fussed. “It’s cold out there, especially after dark.”

“I can just wear my blanket.” Keith said. “It’s fine, Hunk. But someone else will have to carry my bag.” 

“I’ll take that job.” Coran volunteered, voice just a hint too cheerful. “No problem whatsoever.”

“Let’s get our things together.” said Shiro with a tight jaw. He still looked pale after their ordeal. “We need to get out of here and make for the desert before the rest of the Galra realize something’s wrong.”

Before they left the house, Keith paused and gave Lotor’s corpse a long look, standing there with a blank expression until Shiro pulled him away. 

_ Zarkon is going to be pissed. _


	13. Home is Where the Zombies Aren't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team travels in search of Sanctuary from the Galra.

The going was slow with Keith’s injuries, but they still managed to keep one step ahead of the pursuing Galra as they made their way south towards the safety of Voltron territory. While they traveled, Coran kept their minds off of the fear and the bite of the wind by regaling them with information and stories about the Voltron gang. 

“I’m a member.” he said, excitedly showing off the black V tattoo on the inside of his wrist. “Pretty high ranking too, if I do say so myself. Second only to the leader, a brilliant scientist named Allura. I was quite close with her father you see, I practically raised her.” 

“What did she study?” Pidge inquired, and Coran’s face lit up even more.

“Before the outbreak she was studying infectious diseases. Ever since things went to hell she’s been trying to find a cure for the virus.”

“A cure?” Pidge’s eyes had sharpened noticeably, making Coran backtrack.

“Well, more like a vaccine. Once the fungus takes over it’s too late, but if we could prevent anyone else from turning-”

“Is that why you’re at war with the Galra?” Shiro butted in. Pidge shot him a look for interrupting their science talk, and Coran’s orange eyebrows leapt to his hairline. 

“Ah, yes, I suppose so. Zarkon tries his best to thwart our research at every opportunity.” His mustache drooped when his face darkened. “I believe that’s why they captured me. I imagine they thought they could blackmail Allura into halting her research.” 

“Would she?” Keith asked from beside Shiro, holding onto his elbow as they walked.

“Never!” exclaimed Coran, looking genuinely offended. “Allura is dedicated to the greater good, and she’d never stray from her path.”

One night by the fire, he told them about their main camp, a little stronghold he called Arus. 

“It’s probably the best place you could hope for in times like these.” he said while the others listened, enraptured. “Running water, electricity, plenty of food and medical supplies.”

“What makes it any different from the Garrison?” Lance questioned, giving the ginger man the side eye. “They had all of that, but they had the emotional depth of a teaspoon.”

“We’re different because we care about each other.” he responded immediately, brow furrowing. “It’s not just a stronghold. It’s a community. We don’t treat other people like resources or toys.”

“Sounds like a great place.” Hunk said wistfully. No one else said anything.

That same night Lance was supposed to be on first watch. But two hours in, when even Shiro was passed out cold, Keith was still awake. He sat the way he normally did, knees drawn up and staring into the fire. The only difference this time was the dusty blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

At first Lance had resolved to let him be and just work through whatever was bothering him on his own. But as the second hour ticked over into the third and Keith showed no signs of tiring, his fragile self control eroded away. 

“Hey man.” he said softly, Keith’s eyes snapping up to him. “You okay?”

Keith hesitated for a moment. Lance could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he pondered whether or not to tell him. Eventually his shoulders loosened. 

“I thought it would help.” he muttered, looking away and barely audible over the fire.

“Thought what would help?”

“Killing Lotor. I thought it would help. Give me… I don’t know, closure or something.”

“But it didn’t?”

Keith hunched over his knees, grimacing slightly as his cuts stretched under their bandages. He had been burning through their supply of gauze like crazy, but not matter how much he tried to convince Shiro to save it, he refused. Slowly, carefully, he shook his head.

Both he and Shiro had been even bigger wrecks since they’d escaped the housing development. The nightmares barely let either of them sleep. Keith would dream of the dark closet and jolt awake hopelessly confused. Shiro’s eyes would be wild when they opened, always immediately reaching out for Keith, to make sure he was still there. During the day Shiro’s flashbacks assaulted him relentlessly, until only Coran’s neverending chatter and Keith’s arm looped through his could keep him grounded in reality. 

They weren’t the only ones screwed up by the experience. Pidge was also tormented by nightmares, though she refused to tell anyone what they were about, even her brother. Hunk hovered unceasingly, fussing over all of them like a panicky mother hen. Lance was quieter and more subdued. He still made his terrible jokes and puns, but they sounded empty, like his heart wasn’t quite in it. 

“I thought I was going to die.” Keith admitted, pulling Lance back into the present. His eyes were haunted, the reflection of the flames making them look even darker than they normally did. “I was sure of it, actually. I was going to die, one way or another, and I might as well try to take him down with me.”

“I remember.” responded Lance. “You told me, the night before.”

Keith cringed. “I was hoping you were too drunk to remember that.”

“Almost,” Lance said with a mirthless chuckle, “But not quite.” 

“I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. Somehow I’m still here, and I don’t really know what to do about it.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just keep living.”

Keith sighed and leaned his chin on his knees. The blanket surrounded him completely, making him look small and young in the firelight. 

“You should get some sleep, I’m on watch for a reason.”

Keith shook his head stubbornly. “I hate sleep.” he said, wrinkling up his nose. There was a short pause, and when Lance realized Keith wasn’t going to nod off any time soon, he released a sigh.

“I still think about it.” he said, catching Keith’s attention once more. “About the killing.”

“I wish you’d never had to do it.” Keith answered, and Lance was surprised at the amount of genuine emotion on his face. 

“Yeah, me too.”

The next morning Coran resumed his rambling promptly on schedule, all the others pressing close, grateful for the distraction. 

“It would be your choice, of course,” he was saying, “But I truly think you all should consider joining Voltron. You’d be safe from the Galra, have food and water and medical attention, and you’d be helping to find a vaccine.”

“I don’t know, Coran.” Shiro answered uneasily. 

“I know you haven’t had the best experience with gangs,” Coran hurried along, as though Shiro hadn’t spoken at all. “But once we cross the border you should consider coming with me to Arus. You could meet Allura, stay a few days, rest and recuperate, and then make a decision.”

He then dropped the subject and began to ramble, all while the other’s minds swirled with the possibilities.

* * *

It was several more days before they reached the border. They had long since last track of the days, but the temperature said late November or early December. 

There was a tense silence over their camp the first morning on the safe side of the border, one that endured stubbornly until Shiro broke it.

“Keith and I are going on to Arus.” he said, drawing all attention to him. “I don’t know if we’ll stay, but we’re pretty much out of gauze and antiseptic and Keith isn’t healed yet.”

Keith stared into the dirt and said nothing.

“We want to go too.” Pidge chirped, bumping her knee against Matt’s. “We both wanna know more about the vaccine.”

Lance and Hunk glanced at each other.

“Think we should go too?” asked Hunk. 

Lance shrugged. “Don’t see why not. No point in abandoning Pidge now. Or Mullet boy and his brother.”

Keith scowled at him, but before he could retaliate Coran was clapping his hands excitedly.

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Wonderful! Wonderful! You’ll just love it there I’m sure!”

Everyone else looked fairly content with their decisions, and casual chatter returned to the group. Keith didn’t join in. 

He felt much the same way he had when he and Shiro had first met the others. Yeah, maybe they could get supplies at Arus, but what would the Voltron people demand in return? Nothing was free, not before the outbreak and certainly not now. And afterwards, what then? Would the gang just let him and Shiro wander around their territory? Would they join like Coran suggested? If they didn’t, where would they go? There were so many questions, and answers for precisely fuck all. 

Still, they had a plan, at least for the next few days. Better than nothing. 

* * *

As they found out, Arus was a fair sized compound on the outskirts of what used to be Albuquerque. Close enough to scavenge supplies, but far enough to avoid the majority of the Z’s. By this point, the city was little more than a crumbling ruin, the mountains rising on the eastern side like a stern guardian. They turned purple when the sun set. 

Coran was practically bouncing with excitement on their final approach, babbling unendingly about the base and how nice it was and how everyone was so friendly. The chatter wasn’t helping Keith’s anxiety in the least bit. They’d run out of gauze a day or so ago and the bandages covering his back were stiff with dried blood. Shiro said the gashes were healing alright, but of course Keith couldn’t see, so he just had to go off of how they felt. And although they definitely didn’t hurt as much as they had at first, they still stung so badly he couldn’t carry his backpack or sleep on his back. Which, if you asked him, was frankly bullshit.

Arus looked much more friendly than any of the other camps they had come across so far. It still had several layers of chain link fence around the perimeter, but it lacked the barbed wire of the Galra and there were no threatening metal walls. The buildings within looked just as slapped together as all the other buildings they’d ever seen, but there was something lighter about them, friendlier. 

Most of the dwellings were single story, all wrapped around a central concrete one that was two stories. Armed guards patrolling both within and without the layer of fences, but they didn’t glare or aim when they saw the visitors approaching. The guard standing at the front gate even grinned.

“Coran!” She exclaimed, rushing away from the gate to crush their mustached companion in a tight hug. Her grin was brilliant when she pulled away, the sweet sight barely belied by the rifle slung over her shoulder. “You made it out!”

“Steady, Nyma!” Coran chuckled when she wrapped him into another embrace. He patted her head affectionately, brushing one of her brown ponytails off of his shoulder. “Yes, yes, I’m alright.”

“You’ve got to see Allura!” Nyma said, latching onto Coran’s wrist and tugging him towards the front gate. “She’s been a mess the whole time you’ve been gone. Come on, all of you!” She waved a hand towards the rest of the group, and they hesitatingly followed her to the gate. 

She swung it open without a second thought, still pulling Coran along behind her. 

“Rolo!” 

To their left a man turned, similarly armed and seemingly patrolling the inside of the fence. His thin face brightened when he saw Coran, and he broke into a jog as he came towards them.

“I can’t leave the gate.” Nyma said regretfully as he approached. “But Rolo can take you guys to Allura.”

“Coran, good to see you again.” Rolo clapped Coran on the shoulder with enough force to almost make the man’s knees buckle. 

“And you, Rolo. Nyma said you could take us to see Allura?”

“Yeah, sure.” The way Rolo spoke was easy and laidback, like nothing in the universe could bother him. His pale eyes lingered on the others one by one in a way that made Keith’s skin crawl, and then he smiled. “New friends?”

“Yep.” 

Arus was nothing like the Garrison. It had a surprising amount of open space, nothing like the crowded alleyways from before. There were normal people and children about as well, but they actually looked like civilians, rather than off duty soldiers. But no amount of pleasant appearances could make Keith drop his guard, and the others looked much the same. Coran was the only one who was truly relaxed. 

Rolo was leading them towards the center building. People called to Coran from all directions, clearly overjoyed that he’d returned alive. Word apparently travels fast, as before they even reached the door of the concrete building it was bursting open. 

“Coran!!!!”

A dark skinned woman in a flowing blue coat emerged, practically throwing herself at Coran. Coran responded in kind, the two of them clutching each other desperately in the middle of the road. 

“Coran, I can’t believe it, we looked everywhere for you, how did-”

“There, there Allura.” Coran cooed soothingly, stroking her long silver hair. “Everything’s alright, I’m alright.” 

She pulled back, wiping tears off of her cheeks and trying to compose herself. Despite her silver hair she looked surprisingly youthful, no more than thirty five. When she moved, Keith caught the slight glimpse of the black tattoo on her wrist. 

“How did you get away?” Allura asked. Her voice was still thick with tears. “When we couldn’t find you we thought the Galra must have caught you.”

“They did.” replied Coran grimly. “But these nice people-” he stepped back to reveal the others standing behind him, “Helped me escape.” 

Allura wiped at her eyes again, plastering on a watery smile as she stepped forward. Keith shifted anxiously, and would have stepped back if Shiro hadn’t had a secure grip on his arm. 

“Thank you.” she proclaimed. Her eyes flicked around, looking for someone to focus on, and eventually landed on Shiro. 

“Truly, thank you.” She said, extending her hand. “My name is Allura, I’m the leader of Voltron.” 

Shiro eyed her warily for a moment before shaking her hand quickly and dropping it. Allura didn’t bat so much as an eyelash at his less than warm greeting. 

“What brings you all to Arus? How did you come across Coran? You must tell me all of the details!” 

“Look, no offense lady,” Pidge huffed, grabbing onto Matt, “but we’ve had a hell of a time lately, and-”

“Oh, of course! You all must be famished, I- oh my, are those bandages?” 

Keith suddenly realized she was looking at him and recoiled against Shiro. She didn’t notice his discomfort and lunged forward to grab onto his wrist. He immediately started hyperventilating. 

“You must come to the infirmary at once! Someone can take your friends to get something to eat and-”

“Let  _ go _ of him!” Shiro snapped, slapping her hand away. She recoiled, eyes wide with confusion, and only then noticed the grim looks on all of their faces. 

“You’re not separating us.” said Pidge. She gripped tightly onto her brother and snagged the hem of Keith’s shirt with her free hand. “So you can just jot that down.”

“I’m so sorry,” Coran stuttered, wringing his hands. Who he was apologizing to wasn’t clear. “This group has been through quite a bit.”

“No, no, I understand.” Allura was still rubbing her wrist where Shiro had struck it, but her face wasn’t angry. “I got ahead of myself. Please, tell me how I can best assist you.”

“Well,” This time it was Hunk speaking, slipping back into his mother hen mode. “Keith does need to go to the infirmary, and we could all use some food and a change of clothes and some rest.”

“Of course, I’ll escort you all personally.” Allura looked back towards the door to the building, where a another woman with red hair was watching. “Florona, please run back to the lab and tend the samples while I’m gone.” 

“Yes, doctor.” said the woman before she turned and hurried back into the building. Allura turned her sharp sapphire gaze to Coran, eyes softening. “Coran, do you need medical attention as well?”

“No thank you Allura. But I’d like to tag along if that’s alright.”

“Whatever you like. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a week.” 

Keith was still more than little wary of following her into the concrete building, but Shiro pulled on his arm insistently. 

“Come on.” he whispered to him. “We need to get you new bandages.”

“I don’t want to trust them, Shiro.” he answered, anxiously licking his lips. “She says she wants to help, but what is she going to want from us?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Come on.”

“Shiro’s right.” murmured Pidge, still hanging onto his shirt. “Your cuts are gonna get infected if we don’t take care of them.”

Keith couldn’t think of an argument, so he let the others pull him along behind Allura.

The infirmary was on the first floor, only a single medium sized room. But still, it was clean, and golden sunlight filtered in through the window on the far wall. There were two cots against opposite walls, with the spare room filled with metal filing cabinets, presumably to hold medical supplies. Rifling through one of them was yet another woman in a tattered white lab coat.

“Shay,” Allura said, knocking on the doorframe. “I’ve got a new patient for you.”

The woman turned, eyes large and dark and kind. She was tall and shockingly well muscled, but she moved with the grace and softness of a ballet dancer. A single black braid fell over her shoulder like a rope.

“Oh, hello Allura.” She gently nudged the drawer shut and stepped forward. Her voice sounded like wind chimes. “Headaches again? You really shouldn’t work so hard.”

“Not me.” Allura said with a shake of her silver curls. She turned back to look at Keith, who would’ve shrunk back if Shiro didn’t push him forward instead. 

“I see.” She gave him a soft smile. “Hello, I’m Shay.” 

“Keith.” he answered in a mumble, ducking his head. Shay didn’t seem to mind his shyness, she just gestured for him to take a seat on one of the cots. The entire group crowded into the room after him, but Shay still didn’t waver in the least. 

“So, what seems to be the problem?”

Keith pushed awkwardly at the collar of Lance’s flannel. “Um, I-” 

Shay caught on immediately.

“May I?” She was suddenly bent closer, fingers hovering over the buttons. For some reason, the fact that she had thought to ask was comforting, and he nodded.

One by one she undid the buttons, fingertips warm where they brushed his skin. She pushed the blood stained shirt off of his shoulders, flicking her eyes over the bandages once.

“Turn around please.”

Keith did as he was told, staring at the white wall and trying his best not to flinch when she started peeling off the bandages. He was expecting some kind of reaction from her, but the room was eerily silent until she had all of the bandages off, resting in a messy pile on the floor. Then she made a sound, but just a little hum in the back of her throat.

“Just a moment.” Keith heard her footsteps as she crossed the room and let out a shaky breath. It was cold in the room without a shirt, and the edges of the whip lashes were throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He didn’t have time to dwell on it however, as Shay returned a few seconds later.

“This may sting.” she warned before pressing a wet square to one of the gashes. He made a little hissing sound, but otherwise didn’t react. This was nothing compared to the first time. 

“You’ve done a good job of keeping it clean.” Shay remarked once she had finished with the disinfectant and began winding on fresh bandages. “They’re not infected at all.”

Keith didn’t answer, but he heard Shiro give a sigh of relief. 

“There, all done.” Keith turned back around stiffly, avoiding Shay’s kind eyes and looking towards Shiro instead. He noticed that Allura looked a couple of shades paler. 

“Allura, I imagine he could use some new clothes.” Shay gestured to his jeans, which were now more of a muddy brown than blue. Keith might have been embarrassed if her voice hadn’t been so damned genuine. 

“Yes, of course. Coran, will you take our friends to the supply area and help them find clothes that fit? I have some things to discuss with Shay.”

“As you say, Allura.” Coran said with a sprightly smile. “How many pieces are they allowed?”

“As many as they need.”

* * *

As soon as Coran had led the group of newcomers away, Allura closed the door to the infirmary. Shay’s face was a combination of sadness and a touch of anger. 

“Am I right in thinking-”

“Yes,” Shay answered, not needing to hear the full question. “He was whipped.”

“Galra?”

“Who else?”

Allura sighed and leaned up against one of the filing cabinets, metal cool against her palm. 

“I’ll need to ask Coran about it.” she mused, staring into air. “They all looked rather beat up.”

“Be gentle.” Shay advised, moving to dispose of the dirty bandages. “They don’t trust us yet.”

“Trust me, I’m aware.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I just hope Coran is alright.”

* * *

“This is too much.” Keith said with a shake of his head while Shiro picked through a crate of miscellaneous clothing. “No one ever gives something for nothing. First the bandages and now all of these clothes? So what is she going to ask us for?”

“Keith, we’ve been over this.” Shiro straightened up, studying the red leather jacket he’d found. “Whatever she wants in return, I’ll make it happen.”

“I don’t want you to!”

“You don’t have a choice. Try this on.” Shiro shoved the jacket at him and Keith reluctantly pulled it over his shoulders, only wincing a little. Shiro glanced over him with an appraising eye, and then nodded smugly.

“That’ll last you awhile. Let’s go track down some jeans.”

“ _ Shiro _ .” 

Keith trailed behind his brother, arguing with him to no avail. Coran stood near the door of the supply area, watching as the group combed through the available clothing. Pidge had found a green button up with a white shirt to go underneath, and now had an orange scarf looped around her neck while she argued with Matt over a Star Wars t-shirt. On the other end of the room Lance and Hunk pawed through another crate, Lance with a long brown coat tossed over his shoulder and Hunk carrying a new shirt. Not all of them had stained the entirety of their wardrobe with blood like Keith had.

Eventually they were all dressed. Matt had won the battle for the Star Wars shirt, and was now outfitted in that and some jeans rather than Galra rags. Once they were all ready, Coran lead them across the compound to the dining hall.

It wasn’t too crowded given it was the middle of the afternoon, but there were a few other people snacking in the thrown together dining area. They gave the newcomers curious looks, but they weren’t malicious.

The dining hall was stocked with mismatched chipped dishes, but even that was better than eating roasted desert rat off of a stick. The food wasn’t exactly five stars, but again, they’d been eating unseasoned, stringy meat for god knows how long now. 

Allura joined them about halfway through their meal, chattering away with Coran as though nothing was wrong. Lance and Hunk didn’t take long to warm up to her, and were soon completely engaged in their conversation as well. Pidge murmured quietly to Matt. Shiro was focused wholly on inhaling as much food as possible. Keith was quiet.

He watched Allura out of the corner of his eye, gnawing on his lip more than his food. His thumb rubbed over his knuckles. Finally, towards the end of their meal, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What is all of this going to cost us?”

The whole table fell silent. He’d spoken right in the middle of Allura’s sentence, and she closed her mouth with a snap.

“What do you mean?” she asked, voice carefully constructed to reveal nothing. Keith clenched his fists. 

“Nothing comes without a price. So what is all of this going to cost us? Bandages, food, clothes- what are you going to want in return?”

“Keith.” Shiro facepalmed, groaning his name through gritted teeth. “Is this really the best time?”

“No, it’s alright.” said Allura. “Don’t worry, we don’t expect anything in return.”

“Bullshit.” Keith spat. “There’s always something.”

“Well, obviously we hoped you might consider staying here and assisting with the cure effort.” Allura put down her fork and rolled her shoulders. “But it’s not expected. We don’t hold people prisoner here. You may leave whenever you wish.”

Keith hunched his shoulders, staring down at his plate with a furrowed brow. This made absolutely no sense whatsoever. This was the apocalypse, it was every man for himself, so why would she just give things away. Things her people had probably spent hours scavenging for?

“I know it may seem confusing.” Allura said gently. “But we aren’t like the Garrison or the Galra. We don’t want to hurt people or use them.”

“Yeah, sure.” he grumbled. He didn’t trust them, any of them, not one bit. He trusted his team, and no one else. 

“You’ll see, Keith.” Coran chimed in from across the table. “Things are different here.”

* * *

“I think we should stay.”

Keith twisted his mouth angrily at Shiro. Allura had given them one of the spare buildings, one with just enough cots for all of them. Coran had returned to his own room hours ago to catch up with Allura. The sun had gone down soon after, and now they all lay on their lumpy mattresses and discussed their next move.

“I agree.” Pidge said, rolling onto her side to look at Keith. “This vaccine might be the real thing. And it’s not like we have anywhere better to go.”

Keith just frowned deeper. “I don’t think so. If we stay they’ll start asking us for things. As soon as we refuse they’ll bring up that they helped us, and we won’t have any way out.”

“Allura isn’t like that.” Matt argued back from his bed on the other side of Pidge. “I was stuck with Coran for weeks, and I trust him not to take advantage of us.”

“Maybe a trial run?” said Shiro with a hopeful tone. “Just until your back heals. And if you still don’t trust them by then, we’ll leave.”

Keith considered his offer, chewing on his lip. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“... Alright.”


	14. The Other Shoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Angst Chapter

Their stay at Arus stretched into days and then into weeks. Keith’s wounds slowly closed until they were reduced to thin pink lines of scar tissue. He begrudgingly agreed to stay even after that, but only because the others seemed genuinely relaxed and he didn’t have the heart to make them leave. So they stayed and gradually began to volunteer for operations around the base. Allura never forced them, but she was grateful for the help and never ran out of jobs to give them.

Hunk spent a lot of time in the kitchens and the garages, alternately helping with meals and with fixing up vehicles that had been scavenged from the city. Matt and Pidge basically lived in Allura’s lab while they tried to help with the vaccine. Neither of them were medically trained like Allura, but they did have naturally sharp intellect that helped them grasp abstract concepts in record time.

Lance was given his own little sniper nest on the roof of the two story building where he could keep watch over the surrounding desert. He complained about the lack of things to actually shoot, but anyone could tell his heart wasn’t really in it. Secretly he was grateful he didn’t have to kill anymore people. 

Shiro was the camp’s jack of all trades. He could do pretty much anything Allura set him to with decent skill, so he usually found himself dashing to and fro from various projects.

Keith was placed on patrol duty and occasionally a scouting mission beyond the fences. He didn’t enjoy those as much as he could have since usually Rolo was sent out with him, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. 

Allura never pushed him to do anything, very conscious of how he expected her to turn on them. He still went on the patrols anyway, just because it was less boring than sitting around doing nothing all day. 

The group managed to settle into a kind of steady peace. For awhile, that was alright. But with peace came quiet, and with quiet came time to think. Which didn’t have good effects on any of them, not even Hunk.

Keith and Shiro’s nightmares still hadn’t abated since the battle with the Galra. It took barely a week of them stumbling around like Z’s with bruises under their eyes before Shay decided enough was enough and began giving them sleeping pills. Obviously she had to ration them, but once a week or so she would give some to the two of them and let them get a good night's sleep. Shiro’s flashbacks seemed to be held at bay if he kept himself busy, so there was always a pile of projects for him to work on. 

The other’s issues weren’t as obvious, but even Lance’s expert deflection techniques couldn’t keep them locked up for long. It was about a month and a half into their stay at Arus when Hunk went back to their house for a few moments and found him curled up on his cot, sniffling and trying his damn best not to cry.

Once they had decided to stay, Allura had moved them to a more permanent residence. It was thrown together with scrap metal and was four rooms in total: a bathroom, a small side room, a kitchen, and a main room. The side room is where Lance and Hunk slept and where they stored the other cots during the day. Pidge and Matt slept in the main room while Shiro and Keith took the kitchen. There weren’t any doors in the house and only the barest slip of a curtain covered the bathroom from view, so Hunk immediately noticed Lance’s huddled form and red rimmed eyes when he came in.

“Lance? Buddy? You ok?”

Lance jumped at his voice and dragged an arm across his eyes, trying to conceal his distress with a fake smile. 

“Yeah, I’m all good, just allergies.”

If he’d been Pidge, he would’ve snapped something along the lines of ‘Bullshit’ and forced Lance to tell him what was really wrong. But he wasn’t Pidge, so instead he just made his way over to the cot and sat beside his friend, a comforting arm around his shoulders. He felt his shoulders tremble as he held in a sob.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I-I just…” he sniffed again, tucking his face against his pulled up knees. “I just miss my family, is all.” 

“I miss mine too.” Hunk said, soothingly rubbing Lance’s arm. “I think everybody does.” 

“It would be Angie’s birthday around now, I think. She’d be turning 15. She was so excited about starting high school, she was gonna try out for the cheer team.”

Hunk listened quietly, trying to remember what Lance’s sister looked like. The image he called up was blurry. 

“And Tess would be home for Christmas. Mom would be pestering her about school and asking her if she’s found herself a boyfriend yet.” An actual smile found a way onto his lips, although it was small and sad and broken. “And she would smile and wink at me because she hadn’t told mom she was gay yet. A-and M-mom-” his voice thickened, the tears finally forcing their way free. 

“Fuck, Hunk, I miss my mom. She was always so stressed and she yelled at us sometimes but I loved her. I miss her hugs and her smile and- and sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night and I can’t stop thinking I just wish she was here to tell me everything will be ok.”

This was surprising. Even with his own sleep being fitful of late he hadn’t known Lance was struggling too. He’d have to pay more attention. 

Hunk gently rubbed his back as Lance finally gave in and sobbed into his knees. He still didn’t stop talking. He’d clearly been holding this in for a long while, and Hunk wasn’t about to stop him from finally letting it out.

“I miss Cuba. I miss the ocean. I hate this stupid desert and all the dust and how everything’s so brown all the time. It’s so cold and I hate it when the wind howls. I hate the muertos, always stumbling around and rotting and making those disgusting fucking sounds.

“I wish none of this had happened. I wish I was still at home, with my dad, where I didn’t have to eat expired crackers out of the box and live with the fact that I have blood on my hands.”

This is when Lance’s words finally failed him, and he curled into a miserable little ball and cried. Hunk pulled him into his side, gently rocking and stroking his hair while he crumbled. They sat there together for quite some time, until Lance’s sobs faded away into heaving breaths, and then eventually stilled. 

“Sorry.” he croaked, but he didn’t try to pull away.

“It’s alright. I understand how you feel.”

* * *

Hunk did understand how Lance felt. He felt the same way. During the daytime, at least. 

He’d suffered from night terrors his entire childhood. His moms had been patient with him, helping him through it and taking him to see a sleep specialist. By the time he was twelve they were mostly gone. 

They returned after the outbreak, after they were gone. For the first few months there was no sleeping well. But after awhile the exhaustion and the constant burning need to survive wore him down and made sleep easier. Now that he was safe, he was right back where he started.

During the day he missed his moms. One slim and graceful, beautiful red hair flowing down her back. The other soft and comforting, black hair and eyes like Shiro’s that always smiled at him. They’d been a happy family. An unconventional one, maybe, but a happy one. Those were the memories that nagged him when the sun was in the sky. As soon as it set, an entirely different set of memories arose.

These were the ones that coated him in cold sweat, jolting him awake in the night with a scream caught in his throat. Memories of pallid skin and slack jaws tinged with orange. Blank, glassy eyes that no longer smiled. Jerky, graceless motions born from stiff joints. 

The terrors always started with the door. The bedroom door he’d locked himself behind, trembling on its hinges as the corpses of his parents slammed and clawed at it, trying to get through it, trying to get to him. 

In the real world, Lance had arrived at his home, distracting the two of them long enough for Hunk to get out of dodge. But in the terrors he never came. The door would shake and creak, the moaning and pounding of fists against wood echoing in his ears until he thought he might go mad. Then the door would break, shatter, splinter apart and in a second they would be on him; cold and unfeeling as their blunt teeth tore painfully into his flesh-

And then he’d wake up. He never yelled or screamed like Keith or Shiro did sometimes, he’d just wake up breathless and shaky. Usually he’d quietly leave the house and walk a couple of laps around the camp to calm himself down before returning. He never told anyone, until one night when he walked into the living room just in time to catch Pidge slipping on her boots.

They both froze like deer in headlights, just staring for a long moment. Then Pidge pressed a finger to her lips and motioned her head towards what passed for a front door. Hunk nodded in understanding. 

A few minutes later they were both outside under the moonlight, walking in silence and trying to ignore the cold wind that cut through their clothing. Eventually Pidge sighed, breaking the spell.

“What was yours about?” 

Hunk didn’t need to ask what she meant. 

“My moms. You?”

Pidge paused for a moment at the question before saying, “Yeah, same.”

There was a slight tension in her voice that said she was lying, but Hunk left it alone. She’d talk about it when she was ready. 

“You could ask Shay for some of those pills.” 

“Nah.” Hunk said with a shrug. “I can usually get back to sleep. I’ll leave those for Keith and Shiro.”

“It’d give you an excuse to talk to Shay.” Hunk looked down in astonishment, and Pidge wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

“What do you mean?” Hunk sputtered, feeling the heat rush to his face. Had he really been that obvious?

“Come on, you two have been making puppy eyes at each other for weeks. Just go for it, bro.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Pidge chuckled. “Whatever you say, lover boy.”

They lapsed back into silence, completing their laps and returning to the house with red ears and noses. They went back to their respective beds without another word, but despite that, Hunk felt much less alone than he had just a few hours previous. 

* * *

Pidge hadn’t been lying; at least, not completely. She had been dreaming about her parents, it just wasn’t the only thing she dreamt about. 

She’d told Matt what their parents did a few weeks ago. He was obviously upset, but he seemed more angry than anything else. Angry at them and their decision to leave her all alone. Since then she’d dreamt about them less, but the other ones hadn’t gone away. 

She’d spent a lot of time in the desert running on pure adrenaline and single minded focus. Find Matt, rescue him, get out of Galra Territory, get away from Lotor. Now it was starting to sink in, the things she had done to accomplish those goals. The scent of blood in her dreams was overwhelming.

It soaked her hands, dripping from her palms and pooling around her ankles. It kept going, flowing from her like a fountain until it reached her face and then she was choking on it, drowning in her own wrongdoings.

She told herself it was ridiculous. She’d only killed two men. Lance had killed five. Keith and Shiro had killed god only knows how many. But still they tormented her. Maybe it was the way she’d done it. She’d chosen the ice pick in the beginning for its size, speed, and precision. Killing muertos with it was easy. Humans, actually live, breathing humans, was a completely different matter. Their screams were right in her ears, their blood on her skin. 

On the other hand, the words she’d given to Lance came back to haunt her. She’d told him not to feel bad about not getting over it, that it was natural, that it was ok. She still believed that, she just couldn’t seem to apply it to herself. 

The others wanted to help her. Even if she hadn’t been as overt about her discomfort, they’d all picked up on it. Matt wanted to help. Hunk wanted to help. Keith wanted to help. But she just couldn’t accept it. She did this on her own, she would work through it on her own. 

She took a lot of walks. She threw herself into the vaccine. She laughed and talked with her brother and her friends. That late night walk with Hunk had helped and they soon made it a habit. They never talked about anything serious, either bantering or just letting the silence consume them. It was nice. 

Still, it wasn’t enough to shake the specters that followed her. And one day she cracked.

She and Lance had been assigned to sort through recently scavenged food, tossing the stuff that wasn’t safe and sorting what was. For awhile their conversation was meaningless and threatened to fall into silence, until Lance asked a more serious question.

“So, you and Matt help a lot in the lab, right?” 

Pidge looked up in surprise, but Lance wasn’t looking at her in turn. He was focused on a can of soup in his hands, rolling it this way and that in the search for an expiration date. 

“Yeah. Why?”

“Do you think… do you think Allura’s vaccine could actually work?”

Oh, so that’s what this was about. 

“Theoretically, yes. We have all of the components, all we need now is the component that would actually fight off the fungus. That’s the hard part.”

“Why is that the hard part? Wouldn’t you just screw around with different chemicals until something works?”

“We have been, but it’s been slow going. It would be easier if we could find something in nature that counteracts the fungus and then copy it, but nothing like that has shown up.”

Lance hummed thoughtfully and set his can of soup aside, reaching back into the crate for another food item. His curiosity seemingly sated, Pidge could have let the conversation fall back into pointlessness. But the words were crawling up her throat, and she couldn’t stop them.

“Do you still dream about them?”

Lance didn’t seem bothered by the question. 

“Yeah, I do.” he said easily. “Do you?”

Damn, he’d seen right through her.

“Yes.”

“I can see why. The whole rescue mission was pretty bloody.” 

“What do I do?”

“I don’t know. Take your own advice, I guess. Talk to people about it.”

“I don’t like talking as much as you do.”

“Then don’t talk about it. Just try to cope and know you’re not alone in it.”

Pidge pondered that for a long moment, turning it over in her mind. Objectively, Lance was right. With the conflict between the two gangs there could hardly be that many people in the camp who hadn’t had to kill someone at some point. Besides that, everyone in their group besides Matt and Hunk had killed people too, more than her. Now she knew that it wasn’t just her, all of them still dreamt about it.

“Do you regret killing them?”

That gave Lance a pause, and for the first time he looked up at her. His brow was furrowed as though he was confused. 

“I don’t know.” his voice dropped in volume a bit. “It helped us survive, helped you find Matt, so I don’t regret doing it. I guess I just wish I hadn’t had to.”

“Yeah, that makes sense to me.”

This was easier. Breaking things down into theories, rational chunks of information that she could work through and solve like math problems. It made much more sense than trying to muddle through all the messy emotional nonsense. 

“Thanks Lance.”

“No problem Pigeon.”

* * *

His mother had taught him to always keep busy. Idle hands make the devil's work and all that. She always had some little project going on, whether it was gardening or knitting or baking, she was always busy, never still. Now he could understand why. When you were doing something just interesting enough to catch your thoughts but not enough to stress you out, you didn’t have time to think about all the stuff that was bothering you. And Shiro had plenty to think about these days.

He and Matt had slipped back into their easy camaraderie from before the outbreak, but neither of them had the courage to confide in the other like they used to. Matt never spoke about the time he spent with the Galra, and neither did Shiro.

Matt never brought up his dramatic change in appearance, but Shiro knew he noticed. It was hard not to. Just one section of his hair stark white against the brown, the stretched diamond of the scar across his nose, the dozens of others scattered over the flesh. He tried to cover as many of them as possible, but some were always visible. 

He hated them. They were a constant reminder to himself and everyone else that he’d been broken, and even though Lotor was dead he would never truly leave. Sometimes he thought about how his parents would react if they could see him now. 

His mother would be sad.  _ My sweet boy _ , she’d whisper,  _ my sweet Takashi, what have they done to you?  _

His father would be angry, mixed with a strange bittersweet pride.  _ I knew you’d make it out. I knew it _ . He’d say. He felt childish pining after his parents, but sometimes he missed them so much it hurt. Some cold, angry piece of him wanted to blame Keith for what happened to them, but he could never bring himself to. 

_ If he hadn’t done what he did, they would all be dead.  _

He knew this couldn’t go on forever. Someday the memories and the trauma would be too much. For him, for Keith, for Matt, for all of them. There were no more pills or therapists that could save them from themselves anymore. They tried to talk to each other, to help each other. Eventually it wouldn’t be enough. 

Despite his inner pessimism, he still felt relieved when Matt finally came to him.

“I don’t want to hate them.” he admitted one day when they were alone, angrily fisting away tears the way Pidge did sometimes. “But I can’t help it. I’m so angry. How could they just leave her like that? Dad I almost understand, but Mom…”

“I don’t know.” Shiro said softly. He didn’t try to justify their actions or come up with a reason for them. That’s not what Matt wanted. He just wanted someone to listen. 

Matt ground his teeth. “What happened to your parents?” he ventured to ask, probably trying to get his mind off of his own family. To his surprise, Shiro actually wanted to tell him the story. This was Matt, he could admit everything to him, even that little part of him that wanted to hate his brother.

So he did. He spilled everything. By the end Matt’s tears had dried, his attention completely wrapped up in Shiro. It wasn’t very often he let himself be vulnerable like this and Shiro felt hollow afterwards. 

“But you don’t blame him?”

“No. They turned, they would’ve killed him if he hadn’t done something. He blames himself enough, he doesn’t need me to do it.”

Matt stared down at his toes where they met Shiro’s, the two of them seated and facing each other on their ratty, torn couch. This was one of the few times Shiro wasn’t fiddling with one thing or another, Matt had his undivided attention. 

“Do you feel guilty?” he asked quietly, picking at the worn fabric. “About Keith?”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t protect Pidge.” Matt’s toes curled when he spoke. “I wasn’t there when all of this started, and I couldn’t protect her or help her. I wasn’t there when our parents died, and she went through so much to find me. I-”

“I do.” Shiro interrupted, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “I do. I blame myself for getting us caught by the Galra, for not protecting him from Lotor.”

They both fell silent for a moment, knowing no amount of reassurance would help either of them. Then Matt spoke again.

“They were making drugs. At that camp they sent me to. Every different type they could, to keep their men in line and draw in new recruits. They wanted me to come up with a more potent formula for one of them.”

“Did you?”

“I tried. But every one I came up with they said wasn’t good enough.”

“Did they hurt you?”

Matt’s lips twitched a little at the question. “Not really. I think they were worried I’d die too easily, being so scrawny.”

Shiro huffed, a short sound of amusement. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day when your lack of muscles was actually helpful to you.”

“Shut up.” Matt said a smirk, bumping Shiro’s leg. They shared a small smile before Matt’s face slipped back into solemnity. 

“But they hurt you guys, didn’t they? You and Keith, before you found me. Lotor knew you two.”

Shiro’s fingers hovered over his scar for a moment. “Yeah, he did. Don’t worry, it was before we ran into Pidge.”

“For once, that’s not what I’m worried about.” He sat forward, resting a hand on Shiro’s knee. There was a certain hesitance in the touch, but it was still familiar and comforting. “I’m worried about you.”

Shiro averted his eyes. “I’m… managing it. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

Matt couldn’t hide his concerned expression. “But it still bothers you, doesn’t it.”

“Well, yeah.” He picked up quickly on the tone of Shiro’s voice.

“I don’t mean you shouldn’t be. I just wanted to tell you that you can talk to me, if you want. I know you don’t like to talk to Keith or the others about it, but if you want to, I’ll listen.”

A smile slowly crept onto Shiro’s lips. He hadn’t considered it before now, but he was realizing Matt was right. He was his best friend, he wasn’t his little brother or one of the others who looked to Shiro as a leader. He could tell the truth to Matt. He could be vulnerable.

“Thanks, Matt.”

* * *

Keith was not a glass half full kind of person. He hadn’t been before the apocalypse, and he wasn’t one now. But he’d been able to find a silver lining about his capture by the Galra- just one, but it was still a good part. It was recent, and it was terrible- recent and terrible enough to drown out all of the old scars. Fear of the Galra and the need to survive had pushed out everything else. But just as with the others, the peace of Arus and the time to settle in reawakened things he’d thought were behind him. 

The first thing was the talking. It hadn’t bothered him since he’d moved in with Shiro, but one day he was discussing something with the others and it just came out of nowhere.

_ If you can’t speak respectfully, you won’t speak at all.  _

The sickly sweet voice of his foster mother suddenly floated through his head and he felt his jaw snap shut on reflex. Of course, at that precise moment Lance asked him a question. He’d just stared at Lance for a long moment, unable to stop the instinctive reaction. 

_ Children should be seen and not heard _ .

He hadn’t been given permission to speak. If he did, if he did so much as breathe too loudly, she’d put the muzzle back on him. He could still feel the itchiness of the scabs the damn thing had left behind around his jaw and the sting of where she struck him whenever he tried to take it off. 

Everyone was staring at him. He quickly shook his head, not even sure what Lance had asked to begin with, and walked away as fast as he could. The humiliation burned hot on his cheeks, but that wouldn’t be the last time that particular behavior would rear its ugly head.

The second thing was the hands. The thing that had always broken him whenever Lotor shoved him in that closet; the feeling of soft hot hands all over him, phantom touches years old that never faded completely. He fell back on an old coping mechanism- taking hours long showers and scrubbing at his skin until it stung and the hands were smothered beneath the sensation. 

Arus was fairly nice by current standards and had functioning showers, but each house had a small vat to hold the water, and he invariably made it all run out by the time he could banish the feeling of fingerprints. He’d fill it back up again, but it took awhile and it was impossible for the others not to notice.

Shiro noticed the pattern. He knew what it meant, and he would have let Keith keep going if it helped him. But circumstances were different now, and he was forced to pull Keith aside.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” he said, “But we live in a desert. We have to conserve water.”

“I know.” he answered, not meeting his brothers eyes. “I guess I can figure something else out.”

For a moment he ghosted his nails over where the scars used to be, where he used to itch until he bled to get the hands off of him. He hadn’t done that since he was thirteen. 

He dismissed that option pretty quickly. The others would insist on bandaging him if they noticed, and then he would just be wasting their gauze. 

“You could try distracting yourself.” Shiro offered with a hopeful look. “You don’t have to talk about it, just find somebody or do something random to get your mind off of it until it goes away.”

Without any better ideas, that’s what Keith did. And he found it surprisingly effective. 

Usually he sought out Pidge, who was perfectly happy with having him sitting nearby to listen to her ramble as she worked. Matt was usually with her and Keith found himself laughing at their pointless banter. 

Once when Pidge was buried up to her eyebrows in something Keith didn’t understand, he sought out Lance. He’d been surprised to see Keith appear in his sniper nest, but he was never against having someone listen to him talk. He took the opportunity to show Keith how his rifle worked, taking it apart with practiced hands and showing him each part before putting it back together. Then, at Lance’s insistence, he’d done the same with his pistol. 

When he felt nonverbal he’d seek out Shiro, who never minded just sitting with him in comfortable silence until the compulsion to stay quiet had left him. And sometimes, when the empty ache in his chest told him he was missing something he’d never had, he’d go see Shay.

The infirmary felt like it’s own realm set apart from the rest of the universe. The world was dirty and bloody and dark; the infirmary was bright and clean. Shay bustled about, organizing various supplies and humming to herself. He’d sit on one of the cots and listen. Sometimes he’d take a nap-- nightmares never seemed to bother him there. The gentle giant of a nurse was the only member of Voltron Keith could relax around. He still stuck close to his group, despite Allura’s assurances and Rolo’s many attempts at friendship. 

Things were beginning to settle. Despite all of their problems and the day to day frustrations of living with other people, things were settling into a nice rhythm. But it didn’t last. 

Nothing good ever lasted. 


	15. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Shiro go out on a scavenging mission and learn they weren't as safe in Arus as they thought they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the chapter that my beta is still mad about to this day so... enjoy, I guess? Also, GRAPHIC GRAPHIC GRAPHIC, VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED

It was supposed to be a simple scavenging mission. Go to the edge of the city, scavenge through a few buildings, get what you can, and get out again. It wasn’t supposed to be difficult or particularly dangerous. 

The universe had other plans.

That morning was brisk and cold, the sky a sharp brilliant blue that hurt your eyes when you looked at it. Pidge and Hunk had gotten up early for breakfast, and now found themselves alone in the dining hall.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Come on, Hunk.”

“Even if I did ask her, what would we do? It’s the apocalypse, we’re not exactly overflowing with romantic opportunities.”

“You could take her to dinner.”

“Where, the dining hall? We eat here every day.”

“Yeah but not just the two of you.”

“Dates are supposed to be special, Pidge.”

“I really don’t think Shay cares that much.”

Their argument would have gone on longer (much,  _ much  _ longer) if the door to the dining hall hadn’t opened at that moment. Hunk clammed up, but it was just Matt and Shiro. 

“Morning.” Pidge chirped, shoving oatmeal in her mouth while Hunk tried to calm his blushing cheeks. “You guys going somewhere?”

Matt and Shiro were both wearing their jackets and backpacks, Shiro armed with his rifle. Matt’s weapons weren’t obvious, but Pidge knew he had several knives tucked in various pockets that he’d been practicing with for awhile. 

“Allura said I could go scavenging!” Matt exclaimed, grinning wide. Pidge couldn’t help but smile with him. He’d been begging Allura for weeks to let him go scavenging, and apparently she’d given in.

“Is Keith up yet?” Shiro inquired, adjusting the weight of his gun. “I left pretty early this morning.”

“I think he’s still asleep.” said Pidge. “Shay gave him a pill last night.”

“Ah, ok. Tell him where I went will you?”

“Yeah, sure. Have fun scavenging Matt, don’t let the muertos bite.”

Her brother gave her a quick hug goodbye, and then he and Shiro trucked out of the dining hall. Pidge immediately turned back to Hunk.

“Now, back to that date with Shay.”

* * *

“Scavenging really isn’t that much fun.” Shiro said, smiling ruefully at a bouncing Matt as they left the camp. “Usually it takes forever to find anything useful and Z’s are a pain.”

“Why does Pidge call them muertos?” Matt asked, ignoring what Shiro had said. “I didn’t think she knew any Spanish.”

“Lance.” Shiro responded shortly. “Keith and him actually got into an argument over it.”

Matt scoffed and shook his head. He was in high spirits, though for the life of him Shiro couldn’t understand why. 

“Didn't you ever go scavenging while you were with the Garrison?”

“Nah, the Garrison was so far from everything scavenging was a major mission. I never went along.”

“Why are you so excited about it?”

“It’s something new to do, that’s all.”

Their conversation remained light hearted while they headed towards the city. The air was still chilly, the sun not completely over the top of the mountains yet. The sunlight sparkled off the rooftops of the ruined buildings below, almost creating an illusion of beauty.

The illusion faded the closer they got. Albuquerque hadn’t been the prettiest city to begin with, and the apocalypse hadn’t done it any favors. Cracked pavement, broken glass, crumbling concrete, the whole shebang. And the first road they came across was simply  _ crawling  _ with Z’s.

Shiro frowned from behind the half crumbled wall they had chosen for cover. 

“There’s a lot of Z’s.” he noted to Matt, narrowing his eyes. “Something must have riled them up.”

The walkers had broken their herd and now ambled around the street, while several biters darted to and fro, gnashing their teeth. From the first building on their right Shiro could hear the tell-tale sound of a clicker searching for it’s next meal.

“Should we go back?” 

Shiro shook his head. “As long as we stay low and quiet, it should be fine. We’ll just stay away from the street.”

Matt followed him without pause when he moved from their position. They crept along the back of the buildings, peering in each one in turn. They went past four before they located one that didn’t have a live clicker in it. 

This one looked like an old video rental store, which probably wouldn’t have many useful goods in it, but it was always worth looking. This is what Shiro told Matt before boosting him through the broken back window. He scrambled over after him, carefully avoiding the broken glass and dropped to the carpet. 

It had once been blue, but was now faded to gray and ripped. The flimsy black wire racks that had held DVD’s were now toppled into one another, creating a complicated web of metal across the floor of the store. 

“I’ll check behind the counter.” Shiro murmured to Matt. “You take the bathrooms. Look for first aid kits.”

Matt gave a jaunty little salute and disappeared around the corner. 

Shiro proceeded behind the counter. He ignored the cash register (money doesn’t matter anymore) and started poking through the cabinets underneath. 

Matt discovered nothing of use in the men's bathroom and proceeded to the women's. He’d barely opened the door when a cloud of spores enveloped him.

He quickly pressed a sleeve over his face, holding his breath and scrambling back and away. He rushed back to Shiro, not daring to breathe until he was as far from the bathroom as he could get.

“Spores.” he gasped out. “We should go.” 

Not many had escaped, but even one inhaled spore from a stuck clicker could turn you. So they left, leaving whatever useful supplies may have been hiding there behind. When they emerged there seemed to be even more Z’s wandering around, which sent alarm bells ringing through Shiro’s head.

“Uh, Shiro?” Matt said, eyeing the large clump of walkers in the middle of the road. “Maybe today wasn’t the best day to go scavenging.”

“Maybe.” Shiro admitted. “Let’s check one more place. If there’s any more when we come out, we’ll head back to Arus.”

The next building they found that wasn’t infested with clickers was what looked like an old community center, like a YMCA. The metal walls were rusted and falling apart, so the two men entered cautiously. They prowled through the various offices and classrooms, peering in through the window slits in the doors before entering and avoiding the ones clouded with spores. They found a few trinkets like spare pencils and paper and a roll of duct tape, but not much else. Eventually they wandered into the largest room in the warehouse-like building: an indoor basketball court. It was dark inside, the thin windows around the edges of the ceiling not letting in much light. Dust hung thick in the air and the whole place smelled distinctly of old rubber and slowly rotting wood. 

“I don’t think there’s going to be much in here.” said Matt with a sneeze. Shiro opened his mouth to agree. Then the whole building shook.

At the same moment an ear shattering  _ boom _ exploded from somewhere else in the building, the massive shockwave knocking both of them to the floor. The wall behind them completely crumbled, and when Shiro forced his head up in a panic sunlight was streaming in where the ceiling had begun to sag. 

Now there was really dust in the air, hanging in thick sheets and layering against Shiro’s tongue. His ears rang and he could barely see through all the dust, but nothing hurt and nothing had fallen on him, which were two blessings he wouldn’t be forgetting. 

Dazed, he stumbled to his feet, groping blindly for Matt. He found him relatively quickly and pulled him close enough to see him. He looked shell shocked and off balance, but there wasn’t any blood. Matt moved his mouth, Shiro couldn’t understand through the high pitched squeal in his ear. He pointed to the side of his head and then shook it. 

Matt repeated himself but with slower motions. 

“A bomb.”

Shiro nodded, the realization coming from far away.

“Galra.”

Shiro nodded again. 

Then Matt’s eyes widened, staring not at Shiro but over his shoulder. He turned, and his gut promptly dropped through the floor.

Z’s were attracted to noise, and they had just made a whole lot of it. And now a whole freakin’ herd of the things were scrambling over the wreckage of the metal wall, coming straight for them.

His whole body went cold as he went into fight or flight, scanning the sides of the room frantically for any sort of exit. He barely caught sight of a grey door tucked into a corner and took off for it without a second thought, dragging Matt along behind him. His hearing was coming back to him, registering the snarl of quick biters right on their heels. 

The two of them crashed through the door. Shiro spun, slamming it shut and throwing his body weight against it a half second before the first biter smacked into it. The door trembled as the biter kicked and scratched and shrieked, but it held. 

The room they were in, as Matt discovered with rising panic, was practically barren. There wasn’t anything in it. What it did have, however, was another door. A door leading to the outside.

“Matt!” Shiro grunted, making him spin. More Z’s had reached the door and were now pressing themselves up against it. Shiro had his feet braced against the floor and his teeth gritted while he tried to hold it shut, but he couldn’t last forever. Already thin fingers were forcing their way between the piece of metal and the frame, the sound of snarls and moans crescendoing ever upwards.

Matt joined him. With their combined strength they managed to shut the door all the way again, though they could feel it shake each time another Z threw their bodies into the melee. 

“There’s another door.” Matt said through his teeth, muscles trembling as the door almost creaked open again. “We can make a break for it.”

Shiro shook his head, sweat beading along his brow. “If we let go of the door they’ll get us before we make it. You go, I’ll hold it.”

“No!” Matt snapped immediately. “I’m not leaving you!”

“Just for a few seconds.” said Shiro, peeling his glare from the door to look at Matt. A small, strained smile appeared on his lips. “I’ll be right behind you.”

There wasn’t time to think it through. His feet were slipping, whole hands were starting to force their way through now. He had to decide, and he had to do it now. And in that moment, he trusted Shiro. So he let go of the door and sprinted for the other side of the room. 

The sounds of the Z’s got so much louder, Matt crashed through the opposite door, and then burning cold air was rushing into his lungs. He ran a few more steps, and then he heard Shiro shout.

He froze, but before he could turn back Shiro was stumbling into him.

“Go!” he shouted in his ear, and together they ran, following the line of the street back the way they’d come. All of the Z’s that had been in the street had swarmed to the community center, but they still ran until they reached the old video rental store. They collapsed in it’s shadow, breathing hard and trembling.

“Holy shit.” Matt breathed out. “We’re alive.” 

A hesitant smile crept to his lips. “Holy shit, we’re alive!” His voice was verging on hysterical, but he didn’t care. “We’re alive! Shiro, we’re-”

Then he looked at Shiro, and his words caught in his throat. Shiro wasn’t looking at him, and he didn’t look elated to have survived. Instead he was looking down at his right arm, eyes dulled and uncomprehending as he considered the teeth marks on his bicep.

Shiro had been bitten.

Matt wasn’t sure how long he sat there in silence, gaping dumbly at the bite mark. He closed his mouth, swallowed hard. 

_ Ok, what do I do, what do I do, what’s step one- _

“Shiro.” His friend didn’t move. 

“Shiro.” Matt grabbed his wrist this time and his head snapped up, as though he’d forgotten Matt was there.

“Matt.” he said urgently, eyes taking on a wild flare. “Matt, you have to get away from me, you have to go, before-”

“No.” Matt’s voice was surprisingly even. A strange calm had settled over him, swallowing up the fear in his gut. He didn’t know what this feeling was, but he would ride it as far as it took him. 

“I’m not giving up on you.” Matt tugged lightly on his wrist. “Come on, get up.”

“You can’t do anything.” Shiro’s face crumbled into despair. “Matt, please.”

“I’m not giving up on you.” he repeated. “We need to find something.”

“What do you mean, find something?”

“To cut it off.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “You can’t cut off the bite, Matt-”

“Not the bite.” he interrupted. “The arm.”

Shiro blanched. “What? No, Matt, you can’t, what if it doesn’t work-”

Matt jerked on his arm, dragging him closer until they were face to face. 

“I’m not letting you turn.” he declared, staring right into his eyes. There was so much fear there, so much it almost shook Matt’s newfound confidence. But he took another bite out of it and leaned closer. “Not without a fight.”

“Matt-”

“People need you alive.” he spat with vehemence. “Keith needs you. I need you.” he let his eyes soften a little, pleading. “Please, Shiro. Please let me try.”

Shiro gulped. There was a long moment of silence while they stared at each other, both of them horribly afraid. Then, slowly, slowly, Shiro nodded.

“Ok.” he said, licking his lips. “Ok.”

Matt let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.” 

He got to his feet, pulling Shiro up along with him. The bite was already turning color, throbbing red around the edges of the teeth marks. They didn’t have much time left. 

“Ok, come on, let’s go.”

It didn’t take much time to find what he was looking for, thank God. The saw was a little rusted and scary looking, but tetanus was easier to cure than the virus. 

Shiro was dead pale while Matt pulled him into a nearby building, as close to the end of the street as he could get them. As soon as this happened he had to get Shiro back to the camp as quickly as humanly possible. Or he would die from blood loss. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to numb the pain.” Matt murmured to him as he guided him down to the floor. 

“It’s ok.” Shiro said, but his voice shook. He tried not to look at the saw. 

Matt stripped off both of their belts, one for a tourniquet and one for a gag. The last thing they needed right now was more Z’s. 

He worked as quickly as he could. His fingers were beginning to tremble; his nerves would fail him soon. He belted one of them around Shiro’s arm above the bite, tying it as tight as he could. Then he shoved the slim blade of one of his knives into the knot and used it to twist. Shiro winced as it got tighter and tighter, but he bit it back, knowing this was nothing compared to what was coming.

He folded the other belt in two, holding it out to Shiro the way he’d held out the strip of cloth to Keith weeks ago. Shiro took it in between his teeth without hesitation. Matt took his arm gently, stretching it out to the side, and Shiro looked away.

“I’m sorry.” Matt whispered, and then he started to saw.

Shiro tried to hold back his screams, but they erupted almost immediately. Blood soaked Matt’s hands, dripping onto the floor and soaking his jeans, but he kept going. He had to keep going; if he stopped he couldn’t bear to start again.

_ You have to do this _ , he told himself,  _ you have to. For Shiro. _

Shiro screamed and screamed until his voice cracked. And then he kept screaming, only getting louder when Matt finally hit bone. 

His arm was mangled, a red and white mess, but Matt pressed onwards, having to brace his other hand against Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro dug his fingernails into his other hand to stop himself from struggling, though his legs still kicked at the floor against his will.

There was a sickening  _ crack _ , and Shiro sobbed, and then it was easier. 

Finally, finally, it was over. The wound was ragged and gushing blood, even when Matt cinched the tourniquet tighter. Shiro kept biting onto the belt, teeth digging holes in the leather as his breath came out in wheezes and muffled cries. 

“Ok.” Matt breathed, ducking under what remained of Shiro’s arm. Blood soaked him, but he didn’t care as he wrapped an arm around Shiro’s waist. 

“Ok, let’s get you up, get you back. Come on, Shiro.” With a great heave, he hauled both of them upright. Shiro swayed, and Matt was barely able to hold onto him.

“Shiro.” he said tightly. “I need you stay awake. Can you do that? For me?”

Shiro groaned piteously, but managed a nod. 

They took one step, then another, and with Shiro still dripping blood, began fighting their way back to Arus. 

* * *

Keith really didn’t like Rolo. Somehow he always ended up being his partner when they went scouting, and he was starting to think Allura was doing it on purpose. He was just so freaking  _ calm _ all the time, like he was eternally high. And he never stopped talking. It wasn’t like Lance’s excited chattering or Pidge’s rambling, it was just a never ending toneless drone. One of these days Keith was going to punch him just to make him shut up.

Rolo nudged him, and he had to physically restrain himself from biting the man's head off. 

“Hey, looks like the scavengers are back.” Rolo was pointing across the desert towards the city. Sure enough, when Keith turned his head he spotted two shapes heading towards them. But something wasn’t quite… right.

He frowned and squinted. The taller shape was leaning on the smaller one, and they were stumbling like they couldn’t keep their balance. Unease coiled in his gut and pushed against the back of his throat. 

He started walking towards them, then broke into a jog. Then a run. 

He smelt the blood before he saw it. Matt was practically bathing in the stuff, and Shiro… Shiro was…

“Shiro!”

Shiro’s head jerked a little at Keith’s voice, and his eyes lifted as Keith came tearing up to them. 

“Shiro- oh my god- shit, what- what happened-” Keith was stumbling over his words, staring with uncomprehending eyes at the stub of Shiro’s right arm. He’d only been gone a few hours but now he looked so pale and blood was everywhere and  _ he was missing an arm- _

“Keith.” Matt’s voice jerked him back to reality. Matt looked just as terrified as Keith felt, a few tear streaks running down his cheeks with red stains splattered on his pale skin. “Keith, we need to get him to Allura.”

Keith went to Shiro’s other side, hauling his intact arm over his shoulder. Shiro was sagging, his strength was leaving him. He yelled for Rolo, who appeared a mere moment later, for once wearing a serious expression.

“Run back and tell Allura and Shay what happened. Now!” Keith’s voice was hard as stone, and Rolo left a little puff of dirt behind when he sprinted off. 

Keith and Matt stumbled forward, supporting Shiro between them. He’d gone lax, his strength beginning to leave him. Keith’s mind buzzed with a million questions. He bit them all back. He could find out what happened later, what mattered right now was saving Shiro. 

The moment they arrived at the gate Hunk and Lance and Pidge were there to help carry him. Which was a good thing as he’d just lost consciousness completely. Together they hauled ass to the infirmary.

A group of other camp dwellers dogged their heels the whole way there, curious and scared, but Keith paid them no attention. Lots of people were talking and yelling all at once, their voices blending into a dull roar. Or that could have been the blood pumping in his ears. It was hard to tell.

Finally they made it and set Shiro on one of the cots as gently as they could, red blood startlingly bright against white sheets. As soon as he was down Keith knelt beside him. His face was so pale, all the muscles slackened. His arm was a mangled mess and he had to avoid looking at it or he would vomit. 

He fumbled for Shiro’s intact hand, but before he could find it someone was pulling on the collar of his jacket. 

“No!” Keith gasped out as he was pulled away from his brother. Allura’s voice answered him.

“You can’t be in here, Keith, you’ll only get in the way.” 

She only let him go once they reached the hallway, turning immediately to call for Matt and Coran to help her. Keith tried to push back into the room while she was distracted, but she shoved him back with one hand. 

“ _ No,  _ Keith. Lance, keep him here!” And with that barked order she disappeared back into the infirmary, closing the door behind her. Keith’s attempt to follow was blocked by a pale, trembling Lance. 

“Let me go, Lance.” he snarled, putting on his scariest glare. Lance gulped, but he still shook his head.

“You heard Allura.”

“Lance, I swear to god-”

Lance braced his hands against Keith’s shoulders, shoving the other boy back against the wall. Keith could feel him shaking, but it didn’t stop him from keeping him pinned.

“Lance.” Keith growled in warning. He could push him off if he really tried, but he didn’t want to hurt him. All he wanted was to see his brother, to hold his hand and tell him everything would be ok. He couldn’t let Shiro die, if he died-

“Hunk, a little help over here?”

“Let me go!” Keith pushed at Lance’s arms, trying to get him to back off without a fight, but Lance wouldn’t move. His breath started to come faster. All he could see was Shiro’s deathly pale face, and blood, and a missing limb. 

“I have to get to Shiro, I have to- I can’t just-”

Hunk’s much large form loomed up behind Lance, blocking Keith’s view of the door. 

“It’s ok.” Hunk said, as reassuring as he could possibly be. “He’s in good hands.”

“It’s not!” Keith snapped, tears of desperation rising to his eyes. He shoved Lance again, but with Hunk behind him he didn’t move so much as an inch. “It’s not! I have to get to Shiro, I can’t leave him, I can’t!”

“Hey, you’re not leaving him.” Lance tried to make his voice match Hunk’s, tried to hide his own fear. “He’s right there, ok?”

Keith briefly considered fighting his way through them, but the thought died as quickly as it came. He leaned back against the wall, letting the helplessness wash over him in a wave that made his knees weak. 

Lance’s expression softened, recognizing his defeat, and lowered both of them to the floor. Hunk followed. Keith and Lance both sat cross-legged with their shins pressed together while Hunk remained behind, pointedly still blocking the sight of the closed door from Keith’s view. 

Something prodded at his side, and then Pidge was there, pressed up against him. It was almost like another group hug. 

“We’re all scared too.” Lance murmured. For a moment anger flashed through his chest-  _ not as scared as I am, you don’t know him like I do, you don’t care about him like I do-  _ and then it was gone. Pidge gripped his elbow.

“It’s gonna be ok.” she whispered to him. They all kept their voices quiet, as though they didn’t want to disturb the medical team as they worked on the other side of the wall. 

“You don’t know that.” Keith’s voice was choked, he sounded exhausted. 

“No, but I believe it.”


	16. At the End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith does something stupid and reckless, but what else is new?

They sat on the cold tile floor for hours in a small miserable pile. The thrum of adrenaline had long since faded, leaving Keith with nothing but sick fear roiling in his stomach. Lance still sat in front of him, not looking him in the eye, picking at the hem of his shirt. Pidge had fallen into a restless sleep against Keith’s side. Hunk was a steadfast form, shifting anxiously every so often but not fidgeting much. Keith rubbed his thumb over his knuckles and tried not to scream.

Finally, God knows how many hours later, the door to the infirmary creaked open. The group scrambled upright as Allura and Matt emerged from the room. They both looked exhausted, and Allura had a few new blood stains on her clothes. Pidge moved first, latching her arms around her brothers middle, not reacting to the dried blood all over him.

“Matt, what happened out there?” She asked, voice muffled into his shirt. He hugged her back tightly, burying his fingers into her hair like he expected to never see her again. 

“It’s a long story.” he sighed. Keith cut in before he could begin said story.

“Is Shiro ok?”

“He’s stable.” Allura answered for him, fixing a tired look on Keith. “It was dicey for a while, but he should be ok as long as we can keep the wound from getting infected.”

Keith slumped back against the wall again, barely keeping himself upright with all the sickly relief that swamped him.

“What happened?” Pidge pestered again, still not letting go of her brother.

“There were a lot of Z’s when we got to town.” Matt began, and everyone latched onto his words, giving him all of their attention. “Shiro seemed uneasy about it and said if they got any more riled up we would leave. We were looking through an old community center when a bomb went off in another room.”

“A bomb?!” Hunk squeaked.

“That doesn’t make sense!” Lance exclaimed, brow furrowing. “Unless-”

“Galra.” interjected Allura with a hard look. Matt nodded, looking like he could pass out at that exact moment.

“The sound lured a fuck ton of Z’s to where we were. We ran into another room and tried to hold the door shut, but there were too many of them. There was another door leading outside and Shiro told me to go for it while he held the door shut. He said he would be right behind me. We both made it out, but somewhere along the way Shiro got bitten.”

Lance went pale, Hunk put a hand over his mouth, Pidge hugged her brother just a little harder. Keith didn’t react. The whole conversation was washing right over his head. As long as Shiro was ok, none of it really mattered. 

“I couldn’t just let him turn.” Matt’s voice was getting more and more choked the more he talked. “So I…”

“You cut the arm off.” Pidge finished, looking simultaneously impressed and sickened. 

“I didn’t know if it would stop the infection, but I had to try.”

“Can we see him?” Keith’s question was directed to Allura, and his stomach sank when she shook her head.

“We don’t know for sure if the amputation really stopped the infection. Everyone who contracts the fungus turns within six hours; we’ll keep him in quarantine until then. You may see him after.” 

The last part of her sentence,  _ if he survives _ , was left unspoken.

“What we need to discuss is the Galra presence so far into our territory.” Allura continued. “They’ve never dared push so far south before, even during our more formal conflicts. Something has changed, and I believe I know what it is.”

“It was me.” Keith said without hesitation. “They’re mad I killed Lotor and they’re looking for revenge.”

“I’m afraid that’s the most likely conclusion.”

Keith’s expression darkened. “If they want me, they can have me.”

“Woah, woah, what does that mean?” asked Lance, tone verging on offended. “You’re not gonna-”

“No, Lance, I’m not going to turn myself in.” Keith could feel something changing. All of the fears that had been holding him back- fear of Lotor, fear of getting Shiro hurt- were crumbling, giving way to rage. “It’s just like the arena. They want a fight, I’ll give them one.”

“What? No!” That was Pidge’s voice, and she finally let go of her brother only to grab onto Keith instead. “Keith, that’s stupid! Stupid and reckless!”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Keith said with a dark chuckle. 

“They’re right.” said Allura, crossing her arms firmly. “This is a ridiculous idea. Put it out of your mind.”

“Or what?” Keith snarled. “You’re going to make me?” 

It was childish, yes. Did he care? No. 

Allura’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Keith, as your leader, I forbid you from doing anything impulsive.”

Keith laughed again, louder, but there was no joy in it. It was dark, daring. 

“You’re not my  _ leader _ .” he held up an arm, baring a wrist. “See? You haven’t branded me yet.”

Allura’s face slackened. She clearly didn’t know how to deal with him. None of them did, really. The only one who knew how to console an angry Keith was-

“Fine, then, as your-”

“If you say friend I am going to punch you.”

Allura’s teeth clacked when she snapped her mouth shut. Keith pushed Pidge off of him and started down the hallway.

“Keith!” Lance yelled after him. “Think about what you’re doing!”

Keith only snarled in response. Hunk held Lance back when he made to follow.

“Just leave him be.” he counseled, though his voice trembled. 

“What if he does something stupid?” asked Pidge, nervously adjusting her glasses. 

“He probably just needs time to cool down.” Allura said distantly, mind already on the next problem. “I’ll need to speak with Coran and inform the rest of the camp, begin reinforcing our defenses in the case of a full blown attack.” 

Lance and Pidge exchanged a nervous look, but allowed Allura to begin directing their actions elsewhere. They could only hope Keith would keep his head.

* * *

Keith was not keeping his head. But he didn’t immediately storm off, either. First he went back to the little house he shared with the others to collect his weapons. 

Anger leaking from him with every movement, he harshly shoved his pistol into his waistband and several extra clips of bullets into his pockets. He clipped his water bottle to his belt almost as an afterthought before picking up his bat. His knife was always with him.

Then he made for the gate. Anyone he passed by took one look at his stormy expression and stayed far away from him, allowing him to make it there unaccosted. 

“Open the gate, Nyma.” That one growl alone was enough to make Nyma’s eyes widen and hastened to do as she was told. 

Once he was out in the desert, he thought he would be home free. Until Rolo caught up with him.

“Hey, Keith!” he called, jogging to catch up while Keith bristled. “Where you going, buddy?”

“Get out of my way.” Keith snarled, as Rolo had ducked in front of him, still wearing his infuriatingly laid back grin. 

“Allura put you on another scouting mission? No problem, I’ll come with you-”

“Rolo. Move.”

Rolo paused and looked at him carefully. He finally seemed to notice the temper boiling just under Keith’s skin, and with scared eyes he obeyed. 

Nothing else got in his way and he was on the outskirts of Albuquerque within the hour. He easily found the street Matt and Shiro had been on, marked by the still smoldering ruins of the building the Galra had blown. Seeing the wreckage only made him angrier. This wasn’t red hot rage barely contained; this was cold and calculated fury. He knew what he was going to do, what he had to do, and nothing in the universe could stop him from doing it.

“Hey!” he yelled, voice bouncing off the empty storefronts. “I know you’re there, you cowardly motherfuckers! I’m the one who killed Lotor! You wanted me, come and get me!”

The wind howled. No living men emerged to confront him, no voices shouted back. The only sound was the footsteps and moans of Z’s who’d been attracted to the sound of his voice. He could see them coming, but he wasn’t afraid. 

Keith dropped his bat and pulled his gun. The explosion of the bullet in the chamber would only call more Z’s, but at this point he didn’t care. He’d kill a million Z’s right now. 

His aim had never been better. Every shot hit it’s mark, every second or third downing a shambling corpse. 15 bodies were strewn on the pavement before his feet by the time he ran out of bullets. Then he picked his bat back up and went to work.

He was a whirlwind. His muscles burned and his eyes stung at the flecks of sweat and black blood that flew into them, but he didn’t stop. He downed Z’s left and right, not caring when fungi-grown hands grasped at his jacket or when gnashing teeth came just a little too close to him. He worked through every walker and biter that came at him, and once the street was clear, he began hunting through the buildings, taking on any clickers that hadn’t found themselves stuck to walls or the floor. 

He didn’t bother trying to sneak around them. He made a lot of noise, shouting and knocking his bat on things until they came at him shrieking. By the time he was done with them, the sound had called even more Z’s to the street, and he took the fury to them.

Still, no matter how many he killed, no Galra ever appeared. Either they’d moved on, or they were just watching him, hoping he’d collapse or get eaten by Z’s. Well, they weren’t in any of these buildings at least.

“Come on!” he screamed once he’d burned through the last Z on that street. He banged his bat against the road in frustration. “Come  _ on! _ ”

Once again, only the howling of the wind answered him. He just stood there for a long moment, panting, feeling his legs trembling and his throat burning. He downed half of his water bottle in one go, not caring when some dripped out of the corners of his lips. 

“Fuck.” he whispered shakily to himself, finally starting to come down from the adrenaline high. The sun was setting at his back as he faced the purple mountains, glaring at where the peaks scraped the sky. Even if the Galra were still here, they wouldn’t be coming out of hiding.

The pain started to set in. The ache of his limbs from all the strenuous activity, the sting of the scrapes and nicks he’d accumulated. Most of them weren’t bad, reminiscent of the scrapes you get falling off of a bike, but one in particular felt worse. There was a distinct burn on his hand, and when he looked, he noticed his glove had been ripped and scowled.

_ Great, just fucking- _

He froze in the middle of ripping the glove off, staring without comprehension. It wasn’t a full set, but there was no mistaking the three or four teeth marks pressed into his pale hand. 

He’d been bitten.

For a moment the wind was the only sound. Then Keith began to laugh.

Probably not the best reaction, but he just couldn’t help it. This was just so ridiculous, this whole situation, first Shiro and then him on the same day, it was just nonsense. 

Well, Galra or no Galra, he certainly couldn’t go back to camp now. He could turn at any moment, be a danger to everyone else. He briefly contemplated cutting the hand off, but immediately realized he didn’t have the balls to do it himself. He didn’t have any more bullets, any other method of offing himself wouldn’t stop the fungus from taking over anyway. 

_ Guess it’s the waiting game. _

He found his way to an old video rental store and holed up behind the counter, water bottle and bat at his side. He stared up at the cracked, water stained ceiling, not feeling much. He should be afraid. He should be thinking about death, bargaining, praying even. But he wasn’t. He just felt numb. 

_ Wonder where I’ll go. Heaven? Hell? Maybe I’ll get reincarnated as a tortoise. A zombie tortoise. Can any of that even happen if my body is still here? Maybe I’ll get trapped inside while my corpse just shuffles around, unable to do anything. Man, that would suck. _

The sun set. He didn’t move. He kept thinking, and thinking, and thinking. He thought about Shiro, how he would react when Keith never came back. He thought about Hunk and Lance and Pidge, if they would care. He thought about his parents. Shiro’s and his birth parents. Did his mom ever regret leaving him? Did his dad? What happened to them? Were they still alive? Were they shambling around somewhere covered in orange fungus? 

Slowly, lulled by his thoughts, Keith fell asleep.

* * *

Morning dawned over Arus and the others were finally allowed to see Shiro. No one had slept that night and no one had seen any sign of Keith. Lance expected to find him back at the infirmary, waiting to see Shiro, but he wasn’t. 

Matt’s field amputation seemed to have worked. Shiro hadn’t turned and he seemed fairly lucid when the others came in to greet him. 

“Hey, guys.” he said with a weak smile, barely lifting his head from the pillow. The nub of his arm was all wrapped in gauze that was still slightly stained, but it was much better than what it had looked like when Keith and Matt had brought him in. Shay stood by, watching for any signs of distress while the four of them crowded his bedside. At the moment, none of them really knew what to say.

“Hey, Shiro.” Lance decided on with a nervous cough. “You feeling alright?”

“No.” Shiro said solemnly. “I’m all left.”

There was an excruciatingly long pause. All of them stared at Shiro, and Shiro stared back, until eventually Lance started laughing.

It was only a giggle at first, but got steadily louder until he was clutching at his sides with tears streaming down his cheeks. Probably a slightly hysterical reaction from stress, but the others followed suit, and soon they all had stitches and aching cheeks. 

“Jesus Christ.” Pidge wheezed, taking off her glasses to wipe at her eyes. “Jesus  _ Christ _ , Shiro.”

“I know, I know, it was bad.” Shiro chuckled. 

“Man, that’s not fair.” Hunk protested. “We thought you were a goner and here you are making  _ puns _ !”

Shiro gave him a wide grin, but his eyes lost a little bit of sparkle when he looked around the room. “Where’s Keith?”

“We looked for him.” Hunk said, forcefully smoothing over his expression. “He’s hiding somewhere. He was pretty angry yesterday.”

“What?” Shiro’s brow furrowed in concern.

“I told them about what happened.” Matt chimed in. “He got really pissed about the Galra and stormed off. No one’s seen him since then.”

Shiro’s demeanor went from semi-relaxed to full panic in about three seconds flat. 

“You guys just let him go?!” He sat bolt upright. There was a little grimace of pain, but his worry over his brother seemed to be overpowering it. “What if he did something stupid? What if he went after them?”

His worry was infectious, and the group murmured anxiously to each other as Shay rushed forward to try and calm her patient. Shiro shoved her away. 

“Guys, we have to find him!”

“Oh no.” Matt scolded, pushing Shiro back down on the cot. “You’re not going anywhere. We’ll track down Keith, he’s probably just hacking at a tree somewhere.”

Shiro didn’t look placated in the least. He continued his argument with Matt, just as Lance looked to the side and saw Rolo passing by in the hallway. He called out to him on a sudden impulse.

“Hey, Rolo!” 

Rolo paused and stuck his head through the doorframe with his trademark crooked smile.

“Whatcha need, Sharpshooter?”

“Have you seen Keith?”

Rolo shook his head ruefully. “Not since he left yesterday.”

“What do you mean ‘left’?” Pidge asked, pushing closer to the door. The conversation attracted Shiro and Matt’s attention, their own falling by the wayside as they listened.

“He left the camp yesterday afternoon, headed for the city. He looked pretty pissed.”

“And you let him go?” exclaimed a new voice, just before Allura emerged from the other direction and stepped into view. “Rolo, you know the rules! No one goes out alone.”

“Sorry, Allura.” he rubbed at the back of his neck bashfully. “But to be honest he looked like he would’ve ripped out my throat with his teeth if I tried to stop him.”

Shiro went pale (well, paler). 

“And he hasn’t come back?” he croaked. 

Rolo shook his head again. “I asked Nyma to keep an eye out for him but she hasn’t seen anything.”

“We must find him immediately.” Allura declared grimly, turning to the others. “Matt, you stay here with Shiro. The rest of you, follow me.”

The others were about to follow her without hesitation when Shiro’s voice stopped them.

“Wait!” He sat up again, despite Shay’s protests. “I want to come with you.”

“Shiro, no.” Matt immediately responded. “You’re way too hurt.”

“I’m his brother.” Shiro’s expression was pinched and pained. “I can’t just leave him. Besides, if he’s not in his right mind he might be dangerous to you guys.”

Shay placed both arms on his shoulders. “Absolutely not.” her voice was still quiet, but undeniably firm. Not to be argued with. “You are staying right here in this bed. The others are more than capable of dealing with Keith.”

Shiro slumped, his stub of an arm twitching as though he was trying to move a hand he no longer had. 

“Don’t worry.” Hunk soothed. “He’ll be fine. We’ll just go track him down really quick, like a lost cat.”

He didn’t looked mollified by the joke. “Just… just bring him back.”

“You got it.” Lance responded. He didn’t feel the confidence his voice projected, but Shiro relaxed just the tiniest bit, so he counted it as a win. 

“Alright everyone.” Allura called from the doorway, calling their attention once more. “Let’s get our things.”

* * *

Keith did not want to wake up. Waking up meant dealing with the cold, and the hunger, the soreness of his limbs, the glare of sunlight. But the voices wouldn’t let him stay asleep. They were loud and insistent, calling his name and saying other things that were probably swear words based on tones. He groaned, trying to turn away from them, but they held him fast and eventually he gave up, forcing his gritty eyes to open. 

Four familiar faces bent over him, ones that even his sleepy brain could distinguish were not supposed to be here. 

“Keith!”

“Jesus Christ, what did you do-”

“Holy shit, is that-”

“Oh my god, it is!”

Keith pushed at the nearest body he could. The thin shoulder said Pidge.

“Go.” he slurred, still groggy. “You guys need to go. Get away.”

Pidge clung stubbornly to his arm, the same one with the bitten hand. When he blinked his eyes clearer he could see her expression; one of intense concentration, the same one she wore when she was trying to figure out a problem.

“Keith, when did you get this?”

“What?” He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, still not completely awake. 

“When. Did. You. Get. Bitten?”

“Um.” He sat up, looked out the back window. The sun was up. “Yesterday I think.”

“Not possible.” Allura snapped, standing from where they had all been kneeling around Keith. “Everyone turns within six hours. It’s scientifically proven.”

“Are you sure it was yesterday?” pressed Pidge, gaze intense on his face. 

“Yeah, I’m sure, the sun went down.”

“Pidge.” That was Hunk speaking, looking at Keith with anxious eyes. “Now isn’t the time, we have to get him back to Arus-”

“No!” Keith immediately exclaimed, yanking his hand away from Pidge. “You can’t take me back, I’m too dangerous.”

Lance grabbed onto his other shoulder. “Ok, dude, just take a deep breath. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Pidge stood up, moving to face Allura.

“Allura, it-”

“It can’t be-”

“But maybe-”

“The chances are astronomical-”

“It’s worth the risk!”

Keith watched their verbal tennis match with growing trepidation. Lance squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and he turned to him with a desperate expression. 

“Lance, please, you guys have to leave. Before I turn.”

“I’m not so sure you’re gonna turn, my dude.”

Keith’s eyes widened, but before he could demand an explanation Allura was yelling. 

“Fine!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Fine, we’ll take him back and run the tests. But if he turns you’re the one who has to put him down.”

Pidge wasted no time, scrambling right back over to him and attempting to haul him to his feet. 

“Come on Keith, we’re going back.”

“No.” Keith tugged back against her, nearly toppling her over. “Pidge, no, it’s too dangerous-”

“Keith.” she said in an exasperated tone. “Do you trust me?”

That gave him a pause. Did he? Well, sure, but did he trust her that much? 

Reluctantly, he nodded. 

“Then trust me. Let us take you home.”

He jolted at her word choice, but let her and Lance pull him up. He was horrendously sore from his killing spree the day before.

He let them take him home.

* * *

Allura kept him on a very tight leash, making a beeline for the infirmary the moment they arrived back at camp. Keith’s spirit soared when he saw Shiro there, awake and alive and not a zombie. Shiro’s face lit up in turn when he saw Keith, and held out his arm to him when he rushed over. Allura let him go, moving over to Shay to explain the situation.

“Shiro.” Keith gasped, eyes unexpectedly growing damp. “You’re ok.”

“Where did you go?” Shiro asked, clutching his shoulder. “You scared me to death.”

For a moment everything else faded away. He couldn’t hear the others behind him or Allura and Shay talking. He let himself bathe in the sheer joy of seeing Shiro alive. Then he grabbed Keith’s wrist, and the spell was broken.

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice cracked. “What… what is this…” 

He was looking at the bite.

“It’s not what you think, Shiro.” Pidge interrupted, shoving her way closer to the two of them. “He said he got this last night.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Shiro said, brow furrowed. He studied the mark more closely. “Mine started getting worse after just a few minutes. This-”

“Doesn’t look like anything, exactly.” Pidge said excitedly, pushing up her glasses. 

“You think-”

“Maybe. Maybe. We have to run some tests.”

Keith wasn’t listening to them. He didn’t care about himself. Shiro was ok, relatively, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Keith.” Allura again. “Come with me to the lab.” 

The next time Keith saw Shiro, his hand was bandaged and he was several blood samples lighter. Pidge, Matt, Allura, and Coran were still huddled in the lab, muttering to each other and flitting all over the place. He’d gotten bored of just sitting after a while and asked to go back down to Shiro. Allura had just waved a hand at him, so he took that as a yes and went. 

Shiro looked physically relieved when he saw Keith again. Shay fussed at him for a moment, trying to get him to go to sleep, but relented when she saw he wouldn’t and left to give them some privacy. 

“Seriously, Keith.” Shiro said after a moment of silence. “What did you do?”

Keith settled himself cross-legged on the cot. There was a certain content to his soul now. He wasn’t worried about the bite anymore or the Galra or anything else. He could keel over and die right then and he wouldn’t have minded, so long as Shiro was ok. 

“My plan was to weed the Galra out.” he said, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “But they must’ve moved on, or maybe they were ignoring me. I ended up fighting a bunch of Z’s instead.”

“How many?”

Keith shrugged. “Lost count. I was pretty pissed.”

“And you got bit?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have the guts to cut my hand off,” Shiro winced, “and I was out of bullets, otherwise I would’ve bitten one.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Shiro said, choking a little on the words. Keith took his hand and squeezed. “Keith, if I’d woken up and you weren’t here…” He paused to take a deep breath, and Keith waited patiently. “I wanted Matt to leave me you know. The only reason I let him do this was because I had to try to come back to you.”

“Well, congrats.” Keith said with a dry chuckle. “You made it.” 

“ _ Keith _ .” His eyes were desperate. 

“I know, Shiro. I’m sorry. I let my anger get the best of me.”

Several loud whoops from the second floor interrupted their conversation. A moment later the lab gang was crashing through the infirmary door, unrestrained excitement written across all of their features.

“Keith, look!” Pidge shrieked, shoving a drawing at him. “Look!”

It looked like a drawing of a microscope slide, but he couldn’t for the life of him decipher what it meant. Thankfully Pidge was more than willing to explain it to him. 

“That’s a sample from someone with the fungus. You can see it’s effects in the bloodstream, here and here.” she jabbed her finger at the drawing. “Now this-” she tossed another paper onto his lap, “Is your blood sample. There’s still an abnormality, but it’s different, and there isn’t a hint of the fungus! Now, your anomaly is a similar structure to the fungus, so-”

“So we think,” Matt said, continuing his sisters sentence, “You must have another type of fungus growing on  _ your  _ brain somewhere, which is counteracting this fungus, except yours seems mostly harmless, so-”

“You’re  _ immune _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twists! Get your totally predictable plot twists here!


	17. I'll Remember to Bring You Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Keith has to make a difficult decision and a discovery is made.

The next few weeks were a flurry of tests and scans and a million other things that Keith didn’t really know the details of. All he knew was that Allura and Pidge seemed to think they could engineer a vaccine out of him somehow, so he went along with it, despite how much he hated being poked and prodded. 

As soon as Shay let Shiro out of the infirmary he glued himself to Keith’s side. He was relearning how to do everything left (and one) handed, and Keith was the only one he trusted to see him struggle and breakdown from the frustration. 

Allura didn’t let either of them go out on scouting or scavenging missions and there were no more signs of Galra activity. But they were out there, they all knew it, and so Allura kept the camp on red alert, building their defenses with each passing day. 

One day the whole team was gathered in the lab, waiting for Allura to come in so they could talk about… whatever it was she wanted to talk about. Spring had finally come to the desert; Lance and Hunk stared longingly out the window, reminiscing about simpler times. Pidge and Matt talked quietly in a corner, casting glances at Keith every so often. Keith didn’t notice, he was sharpening his knife while Shiro sat beside him and watched.

The door opened and all conversation in the room died as Allura walked in. She looked frazzled and tired; she’d hardly slept since they’d discovered Keith’s immunity. But there was a sparkle in her eyes that said she was happy, or excited, or something of that sort. 

“Good, you’re all here.” she said. Coran was following on her heels as usual, mustache and chipper attitude included. “We have some very important things to discuss.”

Keith glanced up and momentarily noted the Holt siblings grim expressions. Then his attention was pulled back to Allura, who had dragged a chair over to sit directly in front of him. He almost scooted back, but refrained with great difficulty. He’d warmed up to Allura a little more since the testing started, but he still wasn’t overly enthusiastic about her. Her close proximity with those serious eyes were not helping matters. 

“Keith,” she began, “You should be aware of our findings over the last few weeks. So far, our hypothesis is as follows: somehow you contracted a similar type of fungus as that of the infection, but one that counteracts it. This fungus grows on your brain as the other kind does, originating in the center and expanding outwards. 

“If we can get a sample of that fungus, we may be able to discover what about it counteracts the infection, and from there reverse engineer a vaccine. All we need to know is what chemicals it uses to fight it off.”

Keith nodded, sheathing his knife. “Ok, and what do you need to do to get the sample?”

Allura breathed deeply, which didn’t help the anxiety in his gut. “There are two procedures we could perform.”

“Allura.” That was Matt, voice holding a warning Keith didn’t understand. Allura didn’t look back at them. 

“The first is the less invasive one. I would drill a hole in the skull and take a sample from the surface of the brain. But the fungus isn’t as concentrated there, and there is a chance it wouldn’t have the data we need.”

“What’s the other one?” Keith asked. 

“ _ Allura. _ ”

“He deserves to know.” Allura snapped at Matt. “He needs to make his own decision.”

“What are you talking about?” Hunk asked nervously from the back, wringing his hands. Lance just watched the conversation, standing very still. 

“The second option would involve cutting into the brain.” Allura didn’t flinch in the least as she spoke. “And collecting a sample from the more concentrated area in the center. This would be more likely to give us what we need.”

“Cut into the brain.” Shiro repeated numbly. “But… if you did that…”

“Yes. If he choses the second procedure, Keith will die.” She said it matter of factly, too matter of factly, and silence fell over the room. 

Keith didn’t formulate his own opinion at first. Instead he took a moment to look around at everyone else. 

Shiro looked panicked.

Matt and Pidge wore matching glares, angry with Allura for some reason. 

Lance was shocked. 

Hunk had a hand over his mouth, as though he were going to be sick. 

Coran’s eyes were indescribably sad. 

Allura was pure determination.

Keith spoke without thinking.

“Ok, do it.”

The silence shattered. Everyone was yelling at once, angry and upset and scared.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Shiro shouted, grabbing onto his elbow. 

“I knew this was going to happen.” Pidge said bitterly, hopping down from her chair. “He’s so fucking self-sacrificial, for fuck’s sake Allura-” 

“No!” Hunk wailed, throwing himself forward. He barely paused in front of Keith’s seat and wrung his hands harder. “No, Keith, you can’t!”

Lance looked flustered and scatter brained, tripping over his words. “Keith, buddy, you gotta think about this, you can’t just decide like that, you have to think about it.”

“You should give it more time, my boy.” said Coran, tugging on his mustache. 

Allura just looked at him steadfastly. 

“I’m not going to let you decide now.” she said firmly. “I will ask you again in one week. Talk to your friends. Think carefully. Don’t throw your life away if you’re not completely certain.”

_ Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like it’s worth much. _

But Allura was gone before he could argue, leaving him with his angry team. 

* * *

After the initial yelling session, they all came to him individually to plead their case. Keith, frankly, hadn’t been expecting this reaction. He’d expected a little pushback from Shiro, but figured everyone would let him go easily, let him sacrifice himself for the greater good. Clearly he was incorrect. 

Lance was the first to approach him that same afternoon, finding him in their house a few hours after Allura had presented his choices. Keith had pulled his cot out and now laid on it in the kitchen, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Keith?” He barely grunted to acknowledge that he’d heard. “Can we talk?”

He turned to look at Lance, who stood in the gap between the living room and the kitchen, chewing on his thumb nail. He’d never seen the other boy look so nervous before.

He sat up with a sigh. 

“Yeah, ok.”

Lance crossed the room to sit next to him, and for a moment there was silence. Surprisingly, Keith was the first one to speak. 

“It’d be for the greater good.”

Lance snorted a little. 

“Greater good?” he said, his voice slightly higher than it should be. “I am your wife. I’m the greatest good you are ever gonna get.”

For a horrendous moment, Keith was confused. Then he remembered, and scoffed.

“Oh my god, Lance, this is serious.” But Lance was already laughing, and Keith couldn’t help but laugh along with him. 

“You’re the worst.” he chuckled, Lance shoved his shoulder in response. His laughter slowed, and his smile grew sad. Keith braced himself for the inevitable mushy conversation.

“You don’t have to die for this, you know.” Lance began, looking down at his feet. “You can do the other one Allura talked about.”

“You heard her, it might not work.”

“The deadly one also might not work. Then you’d be dead for nothing.”

“Lance-”

He held up a hand, and Keith fell silent. “Just let me finish, ok?”

Even though Lance still wasn’t looking at him, Keith nodded a little begrudgingly. 

“Look, I’m a selfish guy. I know this about myself. And to me it doesn’t seem fair to ask you to give up your life on the off chance they’ll be able to engineer a vaccine off of you.” He finally chanced a look up, blue eyes wide and earnest. “None of us owe the world anything, especially not you. We’ve all been through and given up more than enough.”

“It’s not just about me, though.” Keith answered, looking away. “It’s not just about us. It’s about everyone.”

“Like I said, selfish.” His voice grew softer. “It’s not bad to be selfish sometimes.”

“But this is the whole world.” Keith argued back, a frown creasing his lips. “I can’t put my life against all the people who’ve been hurt by the fungus and all the people who will be in the future and say it’s equal.”

“So do the other one. Let them try, and if it doesn’t work, oh well, you gave it the old college try. No one in their right mind would expect you to throw your own life away for this.”

“I would.” Keith said quietly. “If it was someone else, I would expect it.”

“What if it was Shiro?” That gave Keith a pause, and Lance pressed his advantage. “What if it was Pidge? Or even me? Would you expect us to die for this?” 

Keith’s mouth twisted. He hated to admit it, but Lance was right. If it was any of them Keith would lock them in a closet somewhere and not let them out until they promised they wouldn’t do it, world saving be damned. 

“But it’s not you.” he said. “It’s me. It’s different.”

“Jesus, Keith.” said Lance with a shake of his head. “You’re impossible.” 

“I don’t  _ want  _ to die, Lance.” Keith muttered, starting to get a little irritated. “But if it’ll help them with the vaccine, it’s worth it.”

Lance just sighed. “Maybe one of the others can talk some sense into you. I don’t know. What I do know is that if you go through with this I’m breaking out a ouija board. The afterlife will be anything  _ but  _ restful for you, Mullet.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “We both know you’ll piss yourself and run away screaming the moment the planchette moves.”

All Lance could manage was a brittle smile. 

* * *

Pidge was next, catching up with him the following morning with a solemn expression that warned Keith of what was to come. The others recognized it as well and cleared out of the house to give them some space. 

“Pidge, I’m not really in the mood.” he said tiredly once everyone else had left. He’d had a nightmare the night before about Shiro turning into a Z and had spent the rest of the night staring at the wall. 

“I never even considered it.” she said. The statement was cryptic, and it tugged at Keith’s attention against his will. 

“What do you mean?”

“When we first figured out what was going on, I never even considered slicing into your brain. Neither did Matt. We thought we would just do the surface level operation and do what we could with what we got. It was Allura who thought of it.”

“Why does this matter?” Keith asked, a little testily. Pidge ignored him and continued as though he hadn’t spoken.

“Even after she thought of it I didn’t want her to tell you. I knew this is what would happen; you would get all self-sacrificial and we would all freak out. But she told you and now here we are.”

“I’m glad she told me.” he snapped. “I don’t need to be protected, Pidge.”

“I think you do, sometimes. From yourself.” she shoved her glasses up on her nose, matching Keith’s angry glare with a steady gaze. “Like the whole incident that got you bitten in the first place.” 

“If I hadn’t done that we never would have found out about the immunity.” 

Pidge let out a heavy sigh and straightened up from her position to approach him. She looked exasperated, but underneath there was sadness. 

“Keith,” she said, “You are the most stubborn, hotheaded, impulsive person I’ve ever met. You run off and do stupid things and get yourself hurt. You lose your temper and say things you don’t mean. You spend half your time driving me crazy and you have absolutely no sense of self preservation.”

Keith scowled at her. “How is this supposed to make me agree with you?”

“ _ But _ ,” she forged forward, disregarding his angry words. “You’re also brave, and selfless, and an incredible fighter. You got me to the Garrison. You held me and let me hit you while I cried. You helped me find my brother, even though you were scared of the Galra. You stayed here in Arus even though you didn’t trust Allura because you knew we felt safe here. You’re my  _ friend _ . And I-”

Her voice cracked, finally stopping her speech long enough for Keith to catch his breath. His eyes were burning and there was a now familiar ache in his chest. 

“I can’t lose you. Not after all of this. So just… just think about that, ok?” Before he could formulate any kind of answer, she turned and left, rubbing tears from her eyes. 

* * *

After that emotion-fest it was a merciful two days before any of the others tried to talk to him about his choice. Still, he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, and Hunk wound up flagging him down sooner than he would have preferred. 

The other boy was wedged underneath a beat up van someone had scavenged, trying to use their miscellaneous parts to get it in working order. He was covered in dirt and grease, but looked perfectly happy about it, as he always did. 

“Hey, Keith! You got a minute? I could use a hand with this.”

Keith reluctantly made his way over, trying to keep his dread off of his face. 

_ Why are they making this so difficult? Why can’t they just let me go?  _

When he got close enough, Hunk held out some metal part smothered in grease to him. He took it without comment, but Hunk was determined to talk.

“Thanks, I just need someone to hold that for me for a sec, didn’t want to put it on the ground. It’s pretty fragile.”

He recognized that tone in Hunk’s voice. He was going to be here awhile, so with a sigh he sat on the dusty ground, sitting cross legged and cradling the part in his lap. 

“Come on, Hunk.” He said, leaning his elbow on his knee. “Let’s hear it.”

“Do you think we’re friends, Keith?” he asked. His voice was casual, but the question was so genuine that for a moment Keith was wounded.

“Of course we are.” he answered softly. 

“Good.” Hunk was still beneath the car, hiding his expression from Keith. It made him anxious. 

“I know we haven’t had the same heart to hearts you’ve had with Lance and Pidge, but it’s good to know I’ve made an impression either way.”

“Hunk.” Keith’s voice was pleading. “Please don’t do this. Whatever you’re gonna say just say it.”

Hunk wriggled out from underneath the vehicle and sat up, giving Keith the most intense look he’d ever seen from him. 

“I’m not going to tell you which procedure to choose.” he said, simply but firmly. At this moment he reminded Keith a lot of Shiro. “I’m just going to say that you’re my friend, and I would miss you.”

He left his statement hanging, just for a second, and then he smiled. 

“Thanks for holding that for me.” He held out his hand for the part, and Keith handed it to him numbly. 

That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all.

* * *

Keith was getting tired of thinking. He’d been spending hours thinking, going over his friend's words in his mind and weighing their wants and his against what Allura had asked of him. No matter how he tried to reason around it, he just couldn’t. If he could help make a vaccine, save thousands of people, he would be idiotically selfish to not do it. 

But goddamnit, they weren’t making it easy for him. He didn’t want them to care. He almost wished he’d never let them get so close to him, then this wouldn’t be so hard. But he had, and now this decision that should have been easy was torturous. Before, the only thing he had to lose was Shiro, and Shiro was strong. He would be fine without him. But now he had three more people he cared about and now he didn’t  _ want  _ to go. 

Keith had been waiting for Shiro’s little talk. But he waited a long time. Six days to be exact. It was the day before their second meeting with Allura when he finally approached Keith, the house conveniently empty when he did. 

Keith tried to beat him to it, tried to head him off, but Shiro wouldn’t let him. He’d clearly been practicing what he was going to say, so Keith relented.

“I know I can’t make this decision for you.” he said quietly. The two of them were in the living room, sitting side by side on what passed for a couch. “And I know if you really want to do this, I can’t stop you. Before you decide, I just want you to understand.”

“Understand what?” Keith’s voice was just as soft as Shiro’s. They were barely a minute in and his throat was already closing up. 

“You’re all I have left.” he said bluntly, making Keith’s breath catch painfully in his chest. “Even if this vaccine works, even if the world eventually goes back to how it used to be, it won’t be worth it. Not to me.”

“Shiro-”

“And I know you feel some kind of responsibility to do it, like it’s your job to give up everything for the sake of the world, but honestly? Fuck the world.”

“What?”

This didn’t make any sense. Shiro was the heroic one. The one who always put other people first, who always went charging head first wherever anyone needed him to. He was the nice one, the one with the morals. And now here he was, telling Keith he didn’t give a shit.

“Fuck the world.” Shiro repeated. His right arm twitched, and then he remembered and pushed his hair back with his other hand. “I don’t care if you dying would save the entire solar system. If it were up to me I’d say no way, let everyone get devoured by zombies, you’re not touching my brother.”

“Shiro…”

“I know it’s not up to me. It’s up to you, and I’ll stand behind you, no matter what you choose. I just need you to know that if you choose the procedure with a higher chance of success that I won’t be ok.”

That’s when Keith shattered. The dam burst, and he threw himself against Shiro’s chest sobbing. Shiro wrapped his arm around his shoulders and squeezed him so tight Keith felt his ribs creak, but he didn’t let go. 

“I d-don’t w-want to.” he cried, voice mercifully muffled by Shiro’s shirt. “I don’t want to leave you-u.” 

“You don’t have to.” Shiro whispered to him, carding his fingers through Keith’s hair. “You can do the other one.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Keith sniffled miserably. “What then?”

“We can deal with it then. It could work, we might not even have to worry about it.”

Keith didn’t bother arguing. He just pressed closer to Shiro, welcoming the familiar warmth as it spread through him. His brother held him close, not even complaining when his tears soaked his shirt. Judging by the heaving of his chest, he was shedding a few of his own. 

They sat there for a long time. The tears came hot and fast from both of them, sobs rattling through ribcages and aching in their lungs, but they didn’t let go until they’d both ran out of tears to cry. Then they sat there a while longer, catching their breath. 

“Love ya, little bro.” Shiro eventually said with a huff of breath that could have been a laugh. 

“Love you too.”

* * *

The relief in the room when Keith told Allura he would only do the first procedure felt like a physical wave crashing down on them. The others had immediately mobbed him in a group hug, even Matt, while Allura stood back with a sad smile. 

“Very well.” she said when the commotion had died down. “Whenever you feel prepared.”

She and Coran performed the actual surgery a few days later and it surprisingly wasn’t that bad. Sure he had a hole in his skull and a little shaved patch in his hair that Lance refused to shut up about, but he’d had much worse. 

They’d gathered a total of five samples, and now all he could do was wait while they and the Holt siblings tried to figure out how to use them. Pidge was ridiculously careful with them, reprimanding everyone constantly that they were using too much. It was pretty transparent what she was worried about, but no one said anything to her. 

The days passed slowly. Things seemed quiet, but the silence that hung over the warming desert was an eerie one, one that made goosebumps prickle over Keith’s skin. It spoke of hidden enemies and concealed threats. Allura wouldn’t let him leave the camp for fear of Galra attack and he was starting to go stir crazy. No, scratch that, he’d been stir crazy. 

The science team went through five iterations of their vaccine prototype before they let the others anywhere near it. But eventually Allura got tired of Lance and Hunk badgering her and she thought Keith and Shiro deserved to know if they were succeeding, so she finally gave in and let them come to one of their trials.

On one of the counters in the lab was a large plastic tub, separated in two by a bit of cardboard. In each half was a tortoise recently captured from the desert, one infected and one clean. Keith and Shiro couldn’t help but chuckle when they saw the test subjects. 

“Think it’s the same one?” Keith asked his brother, sticking his arm into the tub and prodding the zombified turtle (not like anything bad would happen if it bit him). Shiro shook his head, smirking. 

“Probably not.”

“Still, it’s fun to pretend it is.” Keith retracted his arm just as the irritated tortoise snapped at him. “We should give him a name.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows. “A name? Like what?”

“Kaltenecker!” Lance suddenly shouted from across the room.

“What?” Both Shiro and Keith asked at the same time. Lance jogged over to them, a goofy smile on his face. 

“The turtle. We should call him Kaltenecker.”

The two brothers exchanged a look, then shrugged. 

“Sure, why not.” said Shiro, and Lance let out an excited whoop. 

“Alright, alright!” Allura called as she finally entered the room. “Enough messing around with my test subjects!”

The three of them took a few steps back from the counter to appease her. She didn’t seem to get any less tense, flitting this way and that as she gathered materials. Coran and the Holts entered just a few minutes later, and Lance immediately ambushed them.

“So, my dudes,” he drawled, draping an arm around each of them, “What’s the plan here?”

Pidge carefully ducked away, brushing her fluffy hair off of her face. She’d just recently cut it again and it was back to it’s usual position bunched around her ears.

“We’re going to inject the uninfected turtle with the vaccine.” she explained, “And then let the other one bite him and start the timer. So far it’s only postponed the infection by an hour or two, but we’re hopeful about this one.” She pushed her glasses up on her face and turned away from them.

“Are we ready Allura?”

“Just about.” Allura was standing near the tub, expertly prepping a needle. “I haven’t the slightest idea why you wanted to see this so badly, Lance. It’s nothing dramatic.”

“It’s a lot more interesting than anything else around here.” Lance answered in his overly extra voice. “Would it kill you guys to scavenge a few books every now and then?”

Allura just rolled her eyes. “Gather around then.”

They all did, watching with great interest as Allura injected the uninfected turtle with a clear serum. Then she carefully lifted the cardboard barrier.

The infected turtle went crazy. Moving astoundingly fast, it leapt onto the other turtle, sinking it’s jaws into the soft throat before it could retract into it’s shell. But before it could go in for the kill Allura forced the cardboard back between them. 

“Hmmmm.” Lance hummed, studying the scene carefully. “Do you think turtle fights could be a new thing?”

“No, Lance.” Hunk said immediately, giving his friend a reproachful look. “That’s just cruel.”

“What now?” asked Shiro, breaking up the banter before it could begin. Matt answered him.

“Now we wait.”

Twenty four hours later Allura called them back to the lab. 

The turtle still hadn’t turned.

The room absolutely exploded, all while a flustered looking Allura tried to calm them down.

“We did it!” howled Lance joyfully. 

“We don’t know that for sure, yet.” Allura reprimanded, though she was struggling to hide her own excitement. “We need to run some more tests, make sure it wasn’t just a fluke-”

“Holy shit!” Hunk exclaimed, unable to hold it in any longer. “A vaccine! An actual vaccine!” He wrapped Pidge up in his arms and despite her protests lifted her right off of her feet in joy. She struggled and kicked, but she was grinning too. 

Shiro put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, and they shared a tired smile. In all of their loud obnoxious celebrating, they didn’t notice Rolo passing by in the hallway. 

* * *

Rolo headed down to the gate, tossing his easy grin at anyone who glanced at him. Nyma grinned when she saw him, but it melted right off when she saw the tension in his shoulders.

“Did they?” she whispered, and he glanced over his shoulder before nodding tensely. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. 

“Holy shit.”

“You know what to do.” he mumbled, and Nyma nodded with a nervous gulp. With a couple more furtive looks, she slipped out of the gate and darted off to disappear among the bushes. Rolo would remain there and cover for anyone who came looking. 

It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been meaning to tell you guys this for the entire fic but kept forgetting: The song When They Call My Name by Black Veil Brides is an excellent song for this fic and I recommend you give it a listen.


	18. A Traitor in Our Midst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to a head.

The good thing about living in metal buildings, as it turned out, was that they conducted sound really, really well. Like right now for instance. 

There were footsteps coming through the backdoor, the one that led to the kitchen. They were trying to be quiet, but they still woke Keith easily. When he opened his eyes, Shiro was staring back at him, already wide awake and alert. Their eyes met and Shiro raised a single finger to his lips. Keith let his eyelids droop shut again, one hand snaking underneath his pillow to wrap around the hilt of his knife. 

He counted the footsteps as they approached, gauging their distance. Three… two… one…

A hand landed on his shoulder. 

With a great burst of speed he sprang upwards, one hand gripping the back of the man's neck tightly and the other burying his knife in his throat up to the hilt. Familiar heat ran over his arms as the man choked and sputtered, making wet sounds as he tried to breathe. Keith pulled out the knife with an unpleasant squelch, and the man slumped to the ground. 

The one who’d gone for Shiro wasn’t down yet. He’d managed to graze his attackers throat with the razors in his knuckle duster and he was leaking blood on the metal floor, but he was still standing. Keith, coming from behind, ended that pretty quickly. 

“Galra.” Keith hissed into the night, kicking one of the bodies purple branded hands with bare toes. “How’d they get into the camp?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Shiro answered, already pulling on his boots. Keith dropped to his cot to copy him. “We need to get everyone awake.”

Keith had just finished lacing up his boots when there were more footsteps, this time coming from the living room. These ones were soft and uncoordinated, not trying to be sneaky. 

“Guys?” Yawned Lance as he entered the room, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going o-” he cut himself off when his toes dipped into warm blood. 

“Holy shit.” he breathed, sleepiness forgotten as he stared at the two corpses on the floor, face going pale. “Holy shit, what-”

“Lance.” Keith grabbed him by the shoulders, disregarding the red handprints he was probably pressing into the other boys shirt. “Galra got into the camp. We have to get everyone awake before more come, you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah I got it.” Lance said, nodding frantically. “I got it.”

There were more sleepy sounds as the rest of the house began to awaken, and within minutes they were all crouched on the living room floor, dressed and preparing their weapons. 

Shiro handed his hunting rifle off to Keith, who pulled his pistol from his waistband and passed it to Pidge. 

“Pidge.” Shiro began quietly. “You go to the lab first and hold the fort. Matt and I will go to the armory to find more weapons, and then we’ll meet you there.” 

Pidge nodded solemnly. Her grip on the pistol was a little awkward, but there was a determined glint in her eye. Shiro moved on. 

“Lance, you get to your sniper nest. Take out anyone who tries to come into the camp.”

“Roger that.” Lance murmured in reply, flicking his switchblade back and forth between his fingers. 

“Keith, Hunk, you two get everyone awake, Allura and Coran first. Kill any Galra you find.”

Keith’s only response was a slight narrowing of the eyes, but he wasn’t the one Shiro was worried about. 

“Listen you guys. This is gonna be bad. There’s going to be blood. People are going to get hurt, people are going to die. People you know, people you don’t. You’re going to have to kill people. It sucks and it's traumatizing and it's awful but I need you guys to stay focused, ok? It’s them or us.”

He got nods all round. Some were shakier than others, but they were with him. It would have to be enough.

“Alright, let’s move. Hunk, Keith, you two go out the front. The rest of us will take the back.”

The first thing Keith noticed when he and Hunk exited the house was the front gate to the camp standing wide open. 

“Wow, they just walked right in.” Hunk whispered as they headed towards it. 

“Who was supposed to be on watch tonight?” Keith hissed in irritation, glancing around them every other second to make sure no one was sneaking up on them. 

“I don’t know.”

When they got to the gate Keith swung it shut, only to note angrily that whoever had opened it had also taken the chain and padlock they usually put on it at night. 

“Someone let them in.” he said to Hunk, who bit his lip nervously. 

“Who?”

“Dunno. Come on, we need to get Allura and Coran.”

As it turned out, the two Galra sent after Keith and Shiro weren’t the only two who had made it inside Arus. They ducked from house to house, waking residents and warning them to either hide or prepare to fight based on how prepared they looked. They found Galra in no less than five of the houses. They were able to save some people, but other times they were too late, and the Galra ended up joining already cooling corpses on the floors. 

When they made it to Allura’s they found her already awake, pulling on her blue coat with a Galra body sprawled at her feet. She’d smashed the man’s head in with a crowbar, and Hunk had to look away to keep his composure in the face of the mangled mess. Allura was unfazed.

“Galra.” she snarled when Keith began explaining the situation. “In my camp. How dare they.”

“Someone opened the gate for them and hid the lock.” Keith said, then all of them jumped at the crack of a very loud rifle. 

“That’s Lance!” said Hunk, more than a little panicky. The rifle cracked again. 

“More are coming.” Keith adjusted his grip on the hunting rifle, adrenaline starting to make him twitch. “Come on Hunk, we’ve gotta get out there. The sound will wake up everybody else.” He briefly turned back to Allura, like an afterthought. “Do you know where Coran is?”

“I’ll get him.” Allura answered, picking up the crowbar still sticky with blood. “He and I will join Shiro at the lab and send Pidge and Matt down to meet you.”

“No, keep them there. There’ll be plenty of defenders down here with the rest of the camp. Oh, and you should probably wake up Shay and get her in the infirmary for when people get hurt.”

Allura didn’t look too pleased at the prospect of following orders from Keith, but now wasn’t exactly the time to argue about it, so she only nodded. 

The sound of Lance’s rifle was louder outside, and it was coming very quickly now. Keith could see why. There was a whole swarm of Galra headed for the unlocked gate; dozens of dirty, hungry looking men with purple brands. Lance was picking some of them off, but there were too many for him to handle alone. 

Some of the other residents had begun piling furniture and scrap in front of the gate, while others hung back, the sound of their own weapons joining Lances as they shot down Galra trying to climb over the fence. 

“That’s not going to last long.” Keith said. Hunk cocked his shotgun. 

Keith hung back at first, using Shiro’s hunting rifle to take shots at Galra trying to hop the fence. But he wasn’t hitting much, so he went closer. 

The battle was loud. The rapport of guns barely covered the yells and cries from people on both sides as they got hit. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, coating Keith’s tongue and the back of his throat. 

There were so many Galra. They just kept coming, eventually getting over the fence. First one or two, then more and more. They threw themselves against the gate until it started to creak inwards. Then it flew open, furniture and scrap being tossed aside as a wave of Galra swept inside. 

Keith discarded the rifle and hefted his bat in his hands. The crack of Lance’s rifle echoed over his head as he rushed into the fray. 

The familiar buzz of adrenaline leaked into his veins, only enhanced by the scent of blood and the reverberations of the strikes running up his arms. The longer it went on, the more men he knocked to the ground, the more skulls he crushed, the more he found himself sinking into his old arena mindset. But this time, unlike all the other times before, he welcomed it. 

He had no idea how long he’d been fighting before he finally threw himself to the side, ducking behind a building to catch his breath. He was breathing hard, coated with blood and sweat and dirt.  Stitch burned in his side from overexertion, and he was more than sure he had numerous scrapes and cuts he just couldn’t feel yet. If it wasn’t for his gloves his bat would have long since slipped from his hands. 

He slumped against the metal wall, brushing sticky strands of hair out of his eyes. From where he was sitting he could see several bodies, though he couldn’t tell which side they belonged to and at this point his brain was a little too hazy to care. Just underneath the echoes of gunshots and screams, there was a soft thrumming. 

_ Red Lion, Red Lion, Red Lion.  _

Keith shook his head firmly, trying to jostle the voices loose. He had to keep himself focused, get back out there. They couldn’t let the Galra get to the vaccine. 

Taking a deep breath, he picked up his bat and got to his trembling legs. But he hadn’t taken a single step before there was a large shape looming over him. He whirled, bat at the ready, only for it to be blocked with a metal clang. He found himself staring at a familiar face, the man’s one arm plated with scrap metal and blocking Keith’s strike, a cruel smirk twisting his expression. The name bubbled from his lips with little prompting. 

“Sendak.”

His smirk widened into an evil grin that made Keith’s stomach churn.

“Hello, little birdie. Long time no see.”

Keith lifted his weapon, trying to dart around and get a shot at his back, but Sendak was unfairly fast for someone so big and laden down with metal and managed to block again. 

“You can do better.” Sendak taunted. Keith gritted his teeth and tried again.

This time when wood met steel, the bat splintered apart in Keith’s hands. 

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pause. He let the useless piece of wood fall to the ground and pulled his knife, going for Sendak’s throat.

His opponent danced away, ridiculously graceful, easily deflecting Keith’s swipes with the metal plating on his arm. Sparks flew in the darkness, adding warmth to the cool light of the moon overhead. 

He finally found a gap and managed to land a blow, a thin slice just over Sendak’s collar bone. He gasped at the sting and Keith snarled. The grin slid off Sendak’s face, replaced with irritation, and he deflected Keith’s next attack before slamming his arm into his stomach.

Keith was knocked to the side, breath knocked out of him once by the arm and twice when his back crashed against the side of the building. They were isolated back here. The sounds of the battle around the main gate sounded distant and muffled. Keith was on his own. No one would come along to help him if he couldn’t take Sendak down. The thought had him pushing off from the wall with renewed vigor, adrenaline singing in his veins. The thrum was back, louder now as he went for Sendak in a whirl of blades and fists.

_ Red Lion. Red Lion. Red Lion. _

Something burned in his side when he tried to breathe. Probably a cracked rib. He didn’t let it slow him down. Sendak was sweating now, hard pressed to keep Keith’s wild attacks at bay. He got another cut through, then another, then another. That’s when things really started to go downhill.

Sendak swung for him. Keith dodged to the side, but that was exactly what he was planning on. He came back quickly and caught Keith by the throat, his one hand squeezing tightly around his windpipe. Keith sputtered and kicked, but didn’t let go of his knife. 

Sendak threw him harshly to the ground and Keith felt the rocks scrape his skin through his jacket. His opponent stood over him, glowering menacingly as he brought his arm up.

“Thace isn’t here to save you this time.” he growled. Keith tensed, preparing to roll out of the way when he brought his arm down, but it never happened.

There was an ear shattering bang, and Sendak froze above him, jaw going slack. Something warm and wet splattered over Keith’s face, the coppery tang in the air telling him exactly what it was. Sendak stood for a moment longer, intestines dripping to the ground from the massive hole in his gut. Then his body collapsed, slumping to the side and clanging into the building on its way down. Behind him stood Hunk, pale with a tight jaw, shotgun at the ready. 

“Hunk.” Keith choked out, throat still raw. “Holy shit-”

The larger boy rushed forward, extending a trembling hand for Keith to take. 

“Keith, man, are you ok?” 

“I’m fine.” Keith responded automatically, only to wince and clutch at his side once he was upright again. 

“You’re hurt. You’ve gotta go see Shay.”

“It’s not that bad, just a few cracked ribs-”

Hunk wrapped a large hand around his arm and began dragging him away from Sendak’s body, not taking no for an answer. Left with no other options, Keith went, spitting gore out of his mouth as they went. 

He eyed the battlefield as Hunk hustled him past it. The Galra were gaining ground due to their sheer numbers; they never seemed to stop.

“How are there so many of them?” Keith murmured to himself, astonished and a little scared. Hunk didn’t answer, just tightened his grip and pulled Keith along a little faster.

It was much quieter back in the concrete building, though the gunshots still echoed through the structure, especially Lance’s rifle directly above their heads. The hall to the infirmary was lined with injured defenders, all people Keith and Hunk recognized from their time in Arus. There was Lyla, bandages plastered across her cheekbone, and next to her was Florona with a gunshot wound in her right shoulder. Shay was rushing in and out of the small room, clearly overwhelmed with so many people to take care of. Some of the people were slumped up against the wall, far too still. Keith tried not to look at them.

Hunk flagged her down, and she rushed to them, mouth set in a firm line. There was no warmth in her gaze now, only focus. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Cracked ribs.” Keith answered before Hunk could. Shay twisted her mouth unhappily.

“Go lay on one of the cots, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

Keith brushed Hunk’s hand off of his arm. 

“Get back out there and help the others, I’ll be fine.”

Hunk’s brown eyes were worried, but he obeyed. 

Keith found himself in the room, laying on bloodstained sheets while he waited for Shay to return. His eyes felt heavy and the burning was only getting worse as the adrenaline leaked out of his system. He just wanted to sleep. He was about to do just that when a loud sound echoed down the corridor, twin bangs, as though someone had thrown the doors open. He tried to push himself upright, only to flop back down on the cot when his ribs shrieked at him. 

For a moment everything seemed fine. Then someone in the hallway gasped and there was an even louder bang. This time Keith succeeded in sitting up, heart beating a million miles per second as he recognized the sound as a gunshot. 

_ Shit. Shit they got through, they- _

The hall outside the infirmary exploded into screams and more gunshots. He couldn’t tell if there was a struggle or who was dying, there was just  _ so much noise _ and he couldn’t think. So he let instinct take over, rolling himself off the cot and scrambling to crouch behind the door. Despite the pain he kept his knife ready, poised to strike whoever came through the door. 

There were more gunshots and screams. Then just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Heavy silence draped over him, interrupted only by the sound of several pairs of footsteps against the worn linoleum, heading for the room he was hidden in. He held his breath.

Three figures entered the room, one large frame flanked by two smaller ones. The two at either side were armed and were presumably the ones doing all of the shooting. Keith tightened his grip on his knife, took a breath to quiet the throb of pain in his side, and leapt out to strike.

They’d been expecting that. The figure he leapt for twisted easily out of his grasp, keeping hold of one of his wrists and using his own momentum to slam him up against the wall. Keith let out a hoarse shout at the impact against his broken bones, and the person holding him twisted him around to face them. 

Keith found himself staring at Rolo.

His face immediately split into a snarl, but Rolo twisted his wrist until he was forced to drop his knife.

“Traitor.” he hissed, anger nearly blinding him.

_ I knew I couldn’t trust him. _

“Yeah.” Rolo said, expression unchanging and eyes dead. “I am.”

The larger person stepped closer to them, and Keith’s stomach plummeted through the floor. He’d only seen him once, right before all of the bullshit with Lotor, but he still remembered that cold glint in the eyes. It was colder than any razor. 

_ Zarkon. _

“You recognize me.” Zarkon said. It was a simple statement, but his voice full of dominance and power and cruelty still sent shivers down Keith’s spine. Rolo felt it and his eyes almost softened, but Keith bared his teeth and thrashed against him. 

“And I recognize you,  _ Red Lion. _ ”

The name sent something akin to electricity zipping through his limbs, and he fought so hard the other figure had to come help Rolo keep him pinned. It was Nyma. 

“I’ve heard so much about you and your role in helping Allura engineer her vaccine.” Zarkon’s face finally shifted from its neutral expression, only to transform into a terrifying evil grin. “Let’s go pay her a visit, shall we?”

Before Keith could do anything about it Zarkon had him by the back of his neck, yanking him from the wall and shoving him towards the door. Keith stumbled and tried to plant his feet, but he really didn’t have any other choice. Zarkon’s hand was huge and tough and undeniably strong. Just a little squeeze and a flick of his wrist and he could snap Keith’s neck. 

The hallway was nothing less than a bloodbath. Keith was used to blood and death, but he still felt his stomach churning at what he saw. There was Lyla, and there was Florona, their corpses slackly slumped against each other. His searching eyes found Shay sprawled underneath another body and his heart leapt into his throat- until he saw the ever so slight movement of her chest. She was playing dead. She was ok.

Zarkon pushed him towards the stairs as though he knew exactly how to get to Allura’s lab.

_ He probably does _ , Keith thought bitterly, glaring at Nyma. Her face was stony and unchanging. He moved his gaze to Rolo, and he at least had the decency to look ashamed. 

As soon as they got within sight of the lab doors, Keith started yelling. 

“Shiro!” he screamed. “Lock the doors! Lock-”

Zarkon’s other hand came up to squeeze around his throat, instantly cutting off his words and his air. Then he was shouldering through the unlocked lab doors, Keith forced in front and the traitors following behind. 

Thanks to Keiths shouting, the others weren’t completely unprepared. They were all on their feet when Zarkon entered, weapons ready and aimed at their new visitor. Matt, Pidge, Allura, and even Coran all had guns of various sizes. Shiro was the only one who didn’t, but he still pushed his way to the front when he saw his brother.

“Keith-”

Zarkon squeezed tighter, forcing a choked sound out of Keith’s throat. Shiro stopped dead in his tracks.

“Hello, Champion.” Zarkon said, voice even and cool. He finally eased the pressure on Keith’s windpipe, and air rushed into his lungs, making the room spin around him. 

“Zarkon.” Shiro and Allura said the name at the same time, and Keith felt the chuckle rumble in Zarkon’s chest. 

“Yes, that’s right. Now tell your friends to lower their weapons, or the Red Lion dies.”

Keith made desperate eyes at Shiro, willing them not to do it, but slowly all of their guns began to dip. Except for Pidge. 

She stood off to the left, Keith’s pistol still raised high. Her eyes glimmered. 

“You too, Shortstack.” Rolo said, voice quiet and sad. Pidge didn’t move.

“No.” she growled low in her throat. “You let him go.”

Zarkon was unmoved. He simply turned to Nyma, who raised her own gun to her shoulder. Pidge still didn’t budge.

There was a bang, a scream, and Pidge went down. 

“Katie!” Matt threw himself to the floor beside his sister, letting his gun skitter away across the floor. Keith surged against Zarkon’s grasp only to be yanked back with great prejudice. But she wasn’t dead. She was on the floor, groaning in pain and clutching her arm. Nyma had just grazed her. Nyma hadn’t killed Pidge.

Allura was glaring at her adversary with frosty eyes. She didn’t bother asking what he wanted, she knew.

“Here’s how this is going to go.” Zarkon snarled. “You are going to turn over all of your vaccine supply as well as any notes you have. I will leave here with them and-” he squeezed Keith’s throat, “With the Red Lion.”

“Why?” asked Allura, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Why him?”

Keith didn’t have to be looking at him to know he was grinning again as he pulled Keith back against him. Keith struggled, stomped on his foot, but he didn’t care. 

“He needs to be punished for killing my second in command.”

“No.” Shiro choked out, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side. “No, you can’t take Keith.”

“It’s either that, or we take it by force and everyone in this camp dies. Your choice.”

Allura took a step forward, chin held high. She was going to accept Zarkon’s offer, and Keith was alright with that.

_ Don’t let everyone die because of me. _

“Allura!” Shiro grabbed onto her wrist and she whirled with a glare. Shiro looked desperate. “Allura, no, please, you can’t, he’s my  _ brother _ -”

“It’s the only way, Shiro.” she responded, pulling her arm from his grasp. Matt looked up from where he’d been wrapping Pidge’s arm with her scarf, alarm written all over his face.

“You can’t let him have the vaccine!” he exclaimed, eyes wide and scared. Allura turned away from him resolutely.

Zarkon chuckled. 

“Allura!” That was Pidge’s voice, but Allura still didn’t turn. She had ice in her gaze, and it took Keith a moment to recognize that her arm was moving. It took him another moment to realize she still had her gun in her hand.

She only got off a shot, just a single shot, but that was all she needed. Her aim was unwavering. For the second time that night Keith felt warm blood drip over him, and then he was being crushed to the floor under Zarkon’s dead weight, fireworks exploding behind his eyelids when his ribs crashed into the tile and compressed under the weight of the corpse. 

He couldn’t see from where he was, but he heard more gunshots above his head and a thump as someone else hit the floor. He didn’t see who it was, but he heard the anguished cry of a name. 

“ _ Nyma! _ ”

The weight above him lifted. Someone rolled Zarkon off of him, and then he was being crushed again, this time into Shiro’s chest.

“Ow, Shiro,  _ ow _ , my ribs-” 

Shiro released him from the embrace but kept his hand firmly on his shoulder. He was shaking. But Keith wasn’t looking at him.

Rolo had dropped his weapon and was on his knees on the floor, cradling Nyma in his lap. Her stomach was a bloody mess, and tears leaked out of her eyes as she whimpered in pain. 

“Nyma, baby, can you hear me?” Rolo was asking frantically as her hands grasped at his shirt. Her jaw was starting to go slack, eyelids closing. “Baby, no, baby,  _ please,  _ please don’t do this to me, please baby please-” 

He kept talking, pushing her hair off of her face and cupping her cheeks in his palms and trying to stop the bleeding. But Nyma was gone.

“Who shot her?” Keith found himself asking, voice seemingly far away.

“Coran.” Shiro answered in a thick voice. “She tried to shoot Allura.”

Keith remembered with a gasp and a jolt that made his ribs pang.

“Pidge!”

“I’m ok.” Pidge croaked from her corner, propped up against Matt’s chest. “I’m good. ‘Tis but a flesh wound.”

Keith could’ve choked on his relief, but at that moment the doors just behind him slammed open, and two shapes nearly tripped over him and Shiro and the body. 

“Guys, they’re retreating!” said Lance’s voice, wobbly from adrenaline and relief. “They’re leaving, they-” 

He was cut off by Hunk’s terrified exclamation. 

“What  _ happened?! _ ”


	19. A Vaccine, A Truce, and A Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voltron takes the first step into a new world.

Voltron had won. They had lost a lot of people, so many people were dead or injured, but they had won. The Galra were scattered, divided, leaderless. Zarkon’s body was burned without ceremony, far away in the desert. The Voltron casualties were burned in the camp, the final sign of respect to keep them from turning after death. 

Keith was bedridden and Pidge had to wear a sling, but it could have been worse. It could have been so, so much worse. Keith felt a little guilty for being happy his group had survived when so many others had not, but he couldn’t help it. He was happy that despite all of the death around them, his little family was still together, still whole. 

One week after the battle, Keith dragged himself from bed to attend Rolo’s trial. It was technically open for the whole camp, but not many of the survivors attended. It seemed most of them just wanted to forget and move on. Keith didn’t. He wanted to know why.

It seemed the rest of his group felt the same, as they all left their house at the same time, not speaking as they made their way to the front of the central building where Allura and Coran were waiting with the prisoner. Only three or four other members of the camp showed up.

Rolo was kneeling on the ground before Allura, head bowed and hands bound. Probably unnecessary, as he’d been practically catatonic ever since the battle. Since Nyma died.

“Why did the two of you betray us?” Allura asked, voice sharp and cold as a blade slicing through the air. Rolo kept his defeated gaze on the dirt. 

“We didn’t have a choice.” he sounded robotic in his grief. “The Galra have our…  _ my  _ son. They would’ve killed him if we didn’t do what they say.”

Coran’s face softened, but Allura’s lip just twitched a little. 

“You should have told us.” she said. “We could’ve helped you.”

Rolo scowled, the first emotion he’s shown this whole time. 

“And risk them finding out and hurting him? No. But now it doesn’t matter. Nyma’s gone and I’ll never see him again.”

Allura paused, seeming to think, and then stepped forward. Rolo cautiously looked up, expression guarded.

“We should kill you for what you did.” she said harshly, and Rolo’s eyes dulled. “But that wouldn’t be fair to your son. And I think… I think Nyma’s death was enough punishment.”

Rolo blinked, not understanding. Keith looked at Allura. He couldn’t say he disagreed with her decision, but he couldn’t say he agreed either. Still, he didn’t have any better ideas and he wasn’t in charge, so he kept his mouth shut. 

“We will release you.” declared Allura. “And you may attempt to find your son. But you may never return to Arus.”

* * *

That wasn’t the only momentous occasion that took place after the defeat of the Galra. Once Allura had perfected the vaccine, she gathered a group together including Keith and his friends and set out for the Garrison. 

“We need help administering the vaccine.” she explained to them. “And they may have some military connections to get it spread across the country.” 

So they went. It took a  _ lot  _ of finagling to get Iverson to agree to a meeting, and the negotiations after that to get the vaccine deployed took even longer. Days, in fact. Allura had to prove it worked, then she had to prove she wasn’t going to use it to her advantage, then she had to negotiate terms for their alliance. 

Keith wasn’t allowed into the negotiation room with Allura and Shiro, and he was ok with that. He wasn’t diplomatic enough for politics. So he spent their time there hanging out with Pidge and Hunk and Lance, talking and exploring the Garrison. He spent even more time sitting outside the negotiation room, just thinking.

What would the world be like after this? Would it take decades for the vaccine to get spread everywhere it needed to? Would it take centuries for the fungus to be completely eradicated? Even if it didn’t take so long, how quickly would the world go back to normal? Would it go back in his lifetime? Would it  _ ever? _

How would the history books remember this time? Would it be romanticized like the Wild West? Memorialized like the Holocaust? Would anyone remember the Galra and what they did to him and his brother and everyone else? Maybe they wouldn’t remember any of it, maybe they’d move on and pretend the world didn’t end for almost two years. 

What would happen to him and his friends? Would anyone remember his parents, or Pidge’s, or Hunks? Would Lance ever find his dad again? Would he or Shiro or any of the others be able to go a single night without waking up in cold sweats, or would these events follow them forever? 

There were so many questions, and this was the apocalypse, so there were answers for precisely fuck all. But for once he knew it wasn’t going to stay that way, and for the first time in god knows how long, he felt hope rising in his chest.

Hope was dangerous. It was painful. It could be fatal. But now he couldn’t help it. He hoped Allura would get Iverson to help them. He hoped the fungus could be destroyed forever. He hoped they could all be happy again.

The world had ended, and now he was hoping they could bring it back. 

So Keith sat there against the wall, listening to the sound of voices coming from behind him. He sat and thought and rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. And as the sound of his friends footsteps approached him, he hoped. 

God, did he hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap folks! But worry not, this series isn't over yet, so keep an eye open. Thanks for sticking through all the way to the end!


End file.
